#and now this new one will have me incomprehensibly busy for at LEAST the next month or so

[brn-t]

LOL i thought i was finally free once i got through the show I was vending for, i was like GREAT finally time to update LL, and then out of Nowhere, a project I had thrown a bid in MONTHS ago for decided Now was the perfect time to let me know I'd gotten selected for the project.

[soundspeachytome]

dusty and fraulein (shohei ohtani au)

summary: your asshole cat falls in love with your new next-door neighbor and takes shelter in his front porch while displacing his poor dog, dusty, and a whole lot of chaos in between ensues.

tropes: enemies to lovers, next door neighbor dynamics, dog parent x cat parent, fake dating, small town romance, pure, pure fluff and romance only.

word count: 11.2k

this is far from my original writing style but i hope you have fun reading as much as i had writing this! (if there are any inconsistencies, sorry in advance!)

other notes: i had patterned the two characters loosely after lorelai and luke and stars hollow as the town. *swoon!*

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

=================================

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You squint through the harsh back light of your phone and see the time: 8:47 AM. It is barely brunch and you hear loud music and conversation from outside your bedroom window. You pull the covers over your head and try to go back to sleep but the sound of a hammer being pounded on wood disrupts your journey back to dreamland. 

It also doesn’t help that your head also feels like someone is drilling it into concrete. For a split second, you wonder why you even let that much alcohol enter your system on a Friday night, and why no one stopped you when you were such a lightweight. You try to remember the events from the night before and then it hits you: you caught your boyfriend–now ex!--sexting with an intern at his office through the messages on his phone. You were not the type to scour through your boyfriends’ phones but it was supposed to be dinner date night with pasta and Sauvignon Blanc when Jack’s phone lit up from the kitchen counter. You were busy preparing cutlery when the phone dinged again. You thought it was important from work and since you had been very open and comfortable with each after a year of dating, taking a peek would not hurt. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Jack, despite being a successful finance analyst, the smart, bookish type, the one who can compute numbers in his head in about 5 seconds or less, apparently was not smart enough to keep his notifications hidden or at least try and cover them up like a serial cheater would. Not that you  wanted him hiding anything from you, but at that moment, seeing the thirst traps and the disgusting follow-up sexts from his notifications bar were enough for you to hurl his precious PS5 from the fifth floor of his apartment building and leave the crime scene with the wine and pasta in tow. 

You don’t know what happened after because you left while he was still in the shower, his apartment thrashed, with a note which you left that says, “For the record, I faked all my orgasms during our sexy time. Veronica ❤️ seems to love your *mini* performance though! PS. If you’re looking for your PS5, try looking down from the balcony, asshole.”

Love is a lie, you scoffed. You let the remnants of last night’s hurt consume you for a little bit more and cry under the covers. You cried until your eyes tired, until the weight of your head felt heavier than a bowling ball. You thought about staying in bed for a few more minutes when a boisterous laughter interrupted your thoughts. The laugh was followed by incomprehensible sentences. The voice came from a man probably in his late twenties, deep, jovial and friendly. You couldn’t make out the words from this distance but he sounded like he was giving instructions, volume fading in and out every now and then. Then more manly laughter. You didn’t know why but this person had a distinct laugh that you found very pleasant. You wonder somberly if you could laugh like that again. 

You jolted upright and went for the door. You will definitely be happy again soon but first, coffee. 

The best hangover fix is a steaming cup of coffee with a plate of bacon and pancakes. You poured yourself a hot mug of coffee and suddenly felt unstoppable, like you’re actually happy, at least temporarily. The pounding in your head has subsided but the drilling from nextdoor hasn’t. You must have new neighbors, the way you’re seeing movers coming in and out of the moving truck parked outside. You tried to catch a glimpse of this neighbor causing all the ruckus but were unsuccessful as the trees lined beside your porch were covering your line of vision. From behind you, you felt your cat, Fraulein, bump her head on your ankles, purring audibly.

“Looks like the new neighbors woke you up too, huh?” She yawned and continued looking up at you. 

Fraulein, a female American shorthair of three years, stood around nine pounds with her stocky legs and long, proportioned tail. Her fur was a thick orange coat with faint white stripes covering most of her body. She was nameless when you picked her up from the animal shelter. She was barely five months old at that time and despite being smaller than the other cats, she had snuggled up to you when you reached for a pet. When you scratched her head and heard her purr loudly, you knew right then and there that she was the one for you. She was the friendliest, clingiest and most loveable thing you have in your life, and despite her “orange cat personality” as most people had dubbed, you wouldn’t replace her with anything in the world, not even for your hound dog-looking ex, Jack. 

She did a big stretch as you picked her up while you stood idly by the window. As you stared outside, Fraulein’s purring sending you in a trance, you suddenly notice a pair of eyes looking up at you from the front lawn. Those eyes should not be there, and more importantly, the pair of eyes belonged to a dog standing just mere inches from your flowering shrubs, tail wagging. If this dog takes another step, they could ruin the gardenias you’ve been trying to grow. 

You step outside and try to shoo the dog away when it suddenly jumps and barks. 

“Hey! Get away from my garden!” You try to stay calm as the dog continues to bark and come playfully near the shrubs. Your heart sinks when his paw accidentally steps on the stems of your peonies. You’ve been meaning to pluck them this week so you can replace the wilted ones from your vase. 

“Oh my god… Please go away! Shoo!” You desperately waved the dog away but it continued to jump excitedly and roll around, probably thinking you were out there to play. Fraulein, who was still in your arms the entire time, started getting restless and was hissing at the dog’s direction, her untucked claws boring into your skin. That’s when you saw a man, probably over six feet tall, rushing towards the dog. He had thick black hair and the widest shoulders you’ve ever seen. 

“Oh my god, Dusty! What are you doing here…” He put a leash on the dog, whose name was probably Dusty, as you have heard, and carried him with one arm. 

“I’m so so sorry! I was inside the house and I didn’t realize Dusty escaped from his leash.” His big brown eyes complemented well against his slightly tanned skin. With your obvious height difference, you had to look up at him from a distance without hurting your neck. 

“He almost ruined my flowers,” You started to say, eyes still locked in his. If you hadn’t forced yourself to look towards your garden, you would have been sucked into his creamy brown orbs. 

You assessed the garden from the mini scuffle. There was a bit of overturned soil from some of the shrubs, especially from the peonies getting the most damage. The stems have been slightly bent, almost breaking from where it stood. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sosososorry! I didn’t mean to–I mean, Dusty’s still young, he’s very playful and…” 

“I was planning on cutting them this week, anyway. Your dog has to stay away from my garden, though.” I pointed at the lopsided peonies, almost looking like they have their hands up in the air, waving sideways.

He looked so apologetic that he almost looked like it was his fault. He tightened his grip on his dog, Dusty, who looked so small and well-behaved being cradled by a big-bodied man. Meanwhile, Fraulein has not relaxed one bit after that quick garden mess and had her claws out, clinging to my threadbare sweater.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll keep a tight leash on her. I’m Shohei Ohtani, by the way. We just moved next door, so I guess we’re neighbors now. I’d offer my hand right now, but I’m afraid Dusty would jump out of my grip. ”

Now that you are able to look at his face carefully, you realize that he was fairly handsome. Correctly proportioned face, dreamy brown eyes, and a smile that invited first love butterflies kind of vibe. He was also tall and definitely bulky over that black long-sleeved sweater that was folded up to his elbows. You could tell he dedicates a good amount of time to his body.

“So that explains all this noise so early in the morning.” You say with an almost sarcastic tone of voice. You didn’t mean it and you were willing to forgive them for the morning ruckus but the garden mishap and the mini-heart attack you had for your plants had somehow added to the list of how-to-piss-your-neighbor-on-the-first-day. And you’re really bad at moving past your first impressions of other people. 

“Are all cat people always this cranky in the morning?” He commented cheekily, displaying a playful expression in his eyes. This man named Shohei is trying to get to you and it’s definitely working. For a first conversation, it surely is getting on your nerves to be read so openly, and in your own premises, at that. 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just an observation. Cat people seemed to be more emotionally charged than dog people.” He said matter-of-factly and continued to smile. He’s handsome but he’s also starting to be annoying as hell. What does he mean by that? Does he want to show off that dog people are better than cat people? 

“Well. If we’re going to talk about stereotypes here then I must say dog people are careless people-pleasers who hogs the attention and only cares about being liked and do not give a rat’s ass on taking up other people’s space and boundaries. I’d also offer to shake my hand but I’m afraid my cat right here might scratch your dog’s face for ruining our morning.” You stared hard at him and slowly backed away, returning to your porch steps.

“Nice to meet you, too, I guess! I would suggest chamomile tea and tone down on coffee!” He waved cheerfully, as he exited the lawn and walked towards his home. You turned your heel and slammed the door shut loud enough for him to hear. Fraulein jumped out of your grip and mewed almost as angrily. She darted toward the kitchen and went out of sight. 

“What a weirdo… If Fraulein doesn’t like him then I don’t have to like him, too.” You muttered to yourself and moved to the bathroom to take a shower. 

You spent your afternoon in the garden, watering and cutting the flowers in full bloom. You wore your oldest t-shirts with a print that says “I Wet My Plants” under your pink square overalls and a sun hat to protect you from the sun. You were listening to your beloved Birdy mix on your headphones as you tended the prettiest flowers in your garden, muting the noise of the world.

I know I was stupid to let what we had go to waste

Why does everything I love always get taken away?

Ghost in the wind calling you to take me home

Ghost in the wind crying, where do I belong?

Can anyone hear me now?

Can anyone hear me now?

“Can you hear me, Y/N?”

“Agh!”

You almost jumped out of your skin when a hand touched you lightly in the arm. It was Patrick Sandoval, your high school best friend, and sometimes main supplier of Fraulein’s flea medicine. You forgot that he was visiting today.

“Whoa! Extra jumpy today?” he smiled his Colgate-white smile and cocked his head to the side. “Coffee overload, again?”

Suddenly you remembered what your new neighbor had said during your first encounter this morning. Naturally cranky… Tone down on the coffee… He had no idea to be assuming things like that, not when you had just literally met.

“Jack cheated on me and I was hungover, okay?” You grit your teeth through the mention of your ex. Like the stench of his name made the bile climb up your throat. “I decimated his PS5 into tiny cracked pieces.”

“Oh, shit, man.. I’m proud of you.” He put you in a half-embrace and patted your head. “Do you need me to break his legs for you?”

You giggled, arm still locked around his waist. “No, but I took one of his expensive wines so that evens that out for me, I think. I don’t care.”

Patrick looks at you and wonders if he arrived too late today. He notices the dark bags under your eyes and your puffy face, probably a result of crying all night. He wondered if you had been crying all morning, too. He couldn’t help but lean in and give you a full, bear hug.

“Just let me know if you need us to file a restraining order, babygirl.” You snorted and buried your face under his embrace, thankful for the assurance. Patrick has always been your rock since high school. When your first boyfriend ditched you in prom, Patrick was there to rescue you when he wasn’t initially supposed to go; you ended the night with stomachs full of pizza, sparkling soda and belly laughter.

You and Patrick had been for each other’s rarest moments throughout adulthood: gushing about your first times, your first heartbreaks, getting into college, graduation… you even wondered if both of you are just teetering from the sidelines, waiting for each other to do the first move. You always brush the thought away because to do that means risking your friendship with him. You don’t want to lose him, not even as a friend.

“By the way, I’m just here to drop these medicines for dear ol’ Frau that you asked.” He lifted a paper bag with a cute animal picture and his pet shop name printed across it. Paw and Order.

 “Thanks, Patrick. I could’ve picked them up if you called.” Patrick has been the sole pet doctor in town which contributed solely to his success. Seeing how much people nowadays prefer taking pets instead of bearing children, he took the opportunity to put up his own pet shop and clinic; you and Fraulein have been number one customers ever since.

“It’s my pleasure, milady.” He did an elegant bow, to which I returned a curtsy, and giggled. “I’m also here to let you know that I’ll be on a business trip for two weeks. So this will be sort of my goodbye.”

“What kind of business trip takes two weeks long?” You don’t really want him to leave, especially with the holidays approaching, you had planned to spend it all with him.

“The kind where your father wants you to venture to a new business spot and spend the holidays with him and his new family.” He shrugged and looked at you, hoping you’d stop him from the impending family mess he’s about to go to, but you only scrunched your nose.

“That sucks, man. You’ll miss all the fruitcakes.” 

“I know, dude.” He pouted. “How are Frau's fleas, by the way? Did the medicine work last time?” 

“Sure did, she’s better now. Speaking of which, where is that old hag?” You haven’t seen her since early morning’s commotion. The last time you saw her she was napping by the window of your bedroom.

“Just call me if you notice anything weird. The medicines should be enough while I’m gone.” 

“Leaving already?”

“First thing in the morning, bub.” He said. “I’ll miss you.”

“Frau and I will miss you, too!” And the two of you embraced in another warm hug. When you both pulled back, he helped you pick up the basket of freshly bloomed flowers you had collected for the day and went back inside the house. You had given him the extra jar of lemon iced tea you’ve been saving for a particularly warm day like this. 

~~~

It’s been a whole day that you haven’t seen Fraulein. She usually wanders off hours in a day but she always returns by dinner time. You were starting to worry as the sky slowly turned pitch black. The lampposts turn on, illuminating the streets. You turn the porch lights on, too, and leave her bowl of food and water by the doorstep, in case she decides to come home late into the night. 

~~~~

You wake up to a high-pitched yowling outside. You’re not exactly sure where but you know that sound from anywhere. You bolted down the stairs with your sleeping robe undone and ran towards the lawn. You can’t see anything until you hear it again.

“Nyreooow!”

Soon, a dog howls and you run towards Shohei Ohtani’s house.

You see Fraulein perched on top of Shohei’s porch, her entire back arched defensively, ears twitching backwards. She was hissing at Dusty, who was whimpering loudly below the porch steps and looking terrified. In your panic, you run to the lawn to pick Fraulein up.

“Fraulein! What are you doing here?” 

Dusty continued to bark loudly, trying to come near the door where Fraulein stood. She hissed menacingly at him.

At that exact moment, Shohei Ohtani emerged from the front door, yawning and trying to get sleep out of his eyes. 

“Whazhapeninhere?” He yawned, looking clearly disoriented from suddenly waking up.

“Your dog is trying to attack my cat!” I yelled, trying to go near Fraulein but stepped back as Dusty blocked your way. 

Shohei popped awake as soon as he heard Fraulein hiss at Dusty once more; Fraulein arched her back more and raised her claws in defense.

“Whoa, hey!” Shohei ran up to Dusty and cradled him in his arms like a baby. Poor dog was shaking and whimpering.

“Are you sure it’s not your cat trying to attack my baby?” He raised his voice. He was standing a few feet away from you and looked you up and down, noticing your loose sleeping robe and looking away. 

“Poor baby getting scared by a cat,” He cooed silently, helping Dusty relax.

You walked up the porch when Fraulein hissed and scratched your arms when you picked her up. She wriggled from your grasp but conceded defeat when you scruffed her by the neck, immobilizing her. 

“I don’t know what’s happening here, but please stay away from my cat.” You looked at both Shohei and Dusty sternly. He noticed the scratches on your hands.

“You’re bleeding.” He started.

You looked down on your hands and saw visible red scratch marks. They started from the middle of your arm all the way to the back of your hand.

“I’m fine.” You huffed, trying to walk away as fast as possible. You don’t know what time it was, but it could easily be past midnight. 

“No, wait. Please, I have antiseptic soap inside…” He rushed towards the house, when he looked back and saw you frozen on the steps, he beckoned you and disappeared inside. “Come on.”

You stood there for a moment and contemplated if you should follow Shohei inside. You barely know the guy and every encounter you’ve had with him always ended in a screaming match or a passive-aggressive exchange. He might even be an ax murderer for all you know. A very handsome one, at that. 

“Frau, if something happens to me, please know that I love you.” You held her near your face. “Third drawer by the sink is where I kept all your catnip”. You whispered to her ear and walked towards Shohei Ohtani’s home.

~~~

Shohei Ohtani’s home was, first of all, very clean. It did not reek of anything a dog owner normally would smell like. It had the occasional puppy toys around the living room, but much to your surprise, it was spotless. It also smelled like sweet rose and laundry detergent. You also discovered that just like you, he lives alone. 

Shohei had put Dusty inside a retractable gate to keep him safe from Fraulein as you put her down on the floor. He busied himself looking for his first aid kit. You don’t notice any other pictures on display except him and Dusty and one with his complete family on the refrigerator door. 

His tall frame reappears and he pulls you towards the kitchen sink. You soak your arms under the water and he hands you the antiseptic soap.

“Thanks,” You mumbled. He never left your side and waited until you finished rinsing off, then took your arm and put cream on the scratch marks. He was standing unbelievably close, you could almost see his long eyelashes as he had his head down, concentrating on his self-appointed task. 

He also had his other hand holding you tight, as if to make sure you won’t run off suddenly. 

“I have these at home, you know.” You trained your eyes on his fingers dabbing cream. Don’t look at his arm veins, Y/N. Don’t look at them. Don’t look. Don’t.

“Oh, gee. Why didn’t I think of that?” He mused to which you rolled your eyes. Once again, the magic had worn off. 

“Do you really have to sound sarcastic all the time?”

“C’mon, lighten up.  Besides, it happened on my property so I feel partially responsible–even if it was your cat’s fault.” He shrugged.

You coughed at his accusation. “Fraulein does not instigate fights. She is well-mannered and prim all the time, thank you very much.” You pulled your cream-covered arm away from him. Just then, you notice Fraulein bumping her head on Shohei’s legs, mewling softly.

“How would you then explain the fact where your cat steals Dusty’s bed from the front porch?” He said, crossing his arm, Fraulein on the other hand, was still headbutting Shohei on the legs.

“Oh, she did not.” You retorted. Why would she steal someone’s fray-looking bed when she has her beautiful beige 2-condo tree tower with a capsule nest and dangling balls and a charming basket-weave style oval bed at home? It didn’t make sense. “She only sleeps in the beds I bought her.”

Shohei gives you a funny look and fishes his phone from his pocket. “Well, you’re in for quite a shock, I guess.”

He shoves the phone to you after tinkering with it for a while. “That’s your cat at 30:56 right?”

You look closely, a bit disoriented at what he was trying to show you. CCTV recorded footage of his porch outside where his dog, Dusty, was sitting in his dog bed, playing with his puppy chew ball, when suddenly, you saw Fraulein enter the frame from the left. 

“It doesn’t show anything.” You impatiently looked on, disbelief and denial dripping from you. 

“Oh just you wait.” 

Fraulein was moving slowly, watching Dusty and his toy. A few minutes pass by, the video captures Shohei exiting the front door and Dusty follows him playfully, at which, the dog bed was obviously vacated, and Fraulein took the opportunity to lay on it. 

Shohei cops the phone away and crosses his arms across his chest. “The court finds the defendant guilty.”

It took you a moment but gasped dramatically at the realization. “Was she here the entire day yesterday? Napping on your dog’s bed?” You looked at Fraulein with sheer disapproval. “Fraulein von Hammersmark, that is not how female felines behave.”

Shohei stifled a laugh. He was leaning over his stomach and ears red. “Relax. I don’t mind at all. I think Dusty does, though.” He picks up Fraulein calmly and gives her  scratches on her head. Fraulein purrs loudly. 

“She has been napping here all day since morning and seems to enjoy watching her new neighbor work out in the front lawn.” 

You grimaced, making sure you showed him your disgust. “Ew, weird flex but okay.”

Dusty whimpers as he looks at the scene from outside his gate. You walk over and give him a light pat on the head. “Dusty, blink once if you need help.” 

“Oh, please.” He giggles. “I’m not the weird one for naming my cat Fraulein von Hammersomething.” Shohei returns Fraulein to you, your arms touching, his head closer to yours momentarily. 

“Y/N. I wonder what the weather is on your side. You want to wear something warmer than that?” He pointed at your loose sleeping gown, your legs showing a little bit of your thigh. A little more movement and the knots would dangerously slip out of your waist and reveal your lingerie. 

“Pervert.” You instinctively covered your chest and ran back home, arms carrying Fraulein and the weight of shame for being almost half-naked inside a strange man’s house. 

~~~~

The next few days after that incident were spent with writing articles for an obscure lifestyle website and your part-time work at the bookstore in town, Novel Nook. You ride a 30 minute bus ride to the town square everyday for work and wait 15 minutes in line to grab a cup of coffee from the coffee shop beside it. It doesn’t feel like work at all because you are always surrounded by the books that you love. It took you a long time to realize that working 9-5 in an office cubicle with ugly fluorescent lighting was deteriorating your mental headspace and when your mom passed, you jumped the gun and submitted your intent to resign.

You removed all the baggage you kept from the city and only brought the ones that mattered to you: your cat, your big books, some pretty clothes you never wore in the city but are wearing freely and confidently now, and your memories of your mom. You flew seven thousand miles back home to the place you were meant to be all this time, and you couldn’t be happier and more content. 

You were walking sluggishly back home from a tiring day at work at Novel Nook where two teenagers fought for the last copy of The Hurricane Wars and it took all your energy to de-escalate before they could start pulling each other’s hair. You can’t wait to kick your boots back, hug Fraulein and maybe continue reading a book. 

Your house is on the opposite side of the bus stop so you always (almost begrudgingly) have to pass by Shohei’s house every time. Sometimes it would be quiet with Dusty playing alone on the porch, or Shohei having a barbecue and would always cheerfully waving at you while you just give him a brief nod. Recently, you’ve grown accustomed to seeing Fraulein hanging out in his place more often than you have imagined. She’s like a teenage girl rebelling against her overbearing mother, hanging out with the wrong crowd. After that incident with Dusty, she has claimed dominance on his bed, Shohei had no choice but to buy a new one for his poor dog, while Fraulein smugly walks around in her new territory. 

You had developed some sort of weird neighbor-dynamic with Shohei after that. On days Fraulein had to take her medicine shots that Patrick had given you, you’d walk towards his house and pick her up like some sort of pet daycare. Shohei likes to call it “daddy daycare” as if you’re two divorced parents and he is the cool dad that all the kids love hanging with while you’re the uptight, overbearing mother with full custody and all, that the kids hate. 

“Fraulein, your mom’s here.” Shohei said one day, looking up from his laptop which was perched on the table he had set up on his porch, sitting adjacent to Fraulein. Dusty was chewing on his toy, as usual, and perked up a welcome upon seeing you. 

Fraulein stands and stretches her back and sits back again resting on Shohei’s foot, to which Shohei smirks almost smugly. “She loves her dad more, it seems.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Fraulein. “Stop calling yourself her dad before I burn your house down.”

“Ooh, an arsonist for a neighbor. That’s so sexy, Y/N.” He looked you up and down and wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re too cute to go to jail, though. How about going out with me instead?”

“Piss off. C’mon, Fraulein, time for medicine.” You turned and walked back to your home, trying to keep a straight face at the being called cute with Shohei. You’re too cute. You made the mistake of looking back as you turned to your corner and saw Shohei grinning at you.

This day would be no different as you passed by Shohei’s house today and saw Fraulein napping at the exact same place on his porch. He was working out doing ab crunches on the ground. You decided today, you wouldn’t dare to go on another episode of sarcasm battle with Shohei and go straight home. He was wearing workout clothes of course, with his gym shorts and sleeveless shirt, for all the temptations in the world, this one, you had proudly resisted and warded off like the devil. 

You found Dusty on your lawn, sitting by the patch of grass far from your flowers, thankfully, and staring far ahead into the direction of your home. You patted him and tried to get his attention. Ever since being displaced by Fraulein, he had been giving you frequent visits and play in your yard and you’d give him treats from your secret stash.

“Hey, bud. Were you waiting for me?” He ignored you and continued to look on.

By the door, you can see a tall black figure standing, unmoving. It was a man in a black suit with hands in his pockets. When he turns around, you see a familiar face.  

“No,” You whispered. Jack smiles at you and waves, as if nothing had happened almost a month ago. As if he was just returning from a business trip. Like cheating on you was nothing.

You started panicking and heaving heavily. Dusty senses your fear and barks at Jack when he slowly walks over to you. 

Dusty continued to growl and bark at Jack while you tried to move backward, feet heavy like lead. 

“Stop, don’t come near me, Jack.” you struggled.

“Y/N, I’m here to apologize, for whatever happened, for whatever it made you feel.” He was still slowly walking towards you, eyeing Dusty carefully.

“We have nothing to talk about anymore, Jack. It’s over, in case you forgot.”

“I said come here, you bitch.” He growled. 

At this point, you only realized you were shaking terribly when a hand wrapped on your shoulder, calming you down.

“Are you okay?” It was Shohei’s voice and you have never felt so relieved to hear his voice. You weakly put your arm around his waist and leaned on him. You were still shaking badly, from the exhaustion, or the fear, you couldn’t tell. 

“Is everything okay?” Shohei acknowledges Jack who stopped at around five feet from where you were. 

“We were just discussing something… private.” Jack shifts his eyes between you and Shohei, who was sizing him up and down. Between Shohei, who stood over six feet tall, bulky, and ripped, and Jack, just around five foot nine, body somewhat lean and lanky, Jack didn’t stand a chance. 

Realizing this, you found more comfort and confidence in your plan. You looked up to see Shohei still trying to converse with Jack while keeping a firm arm around you. 

“Shohei.” He looked at you cautiously and tightened his grip on your shoulder. 

Please promise me that you won’t get mad at what I’m about to do.

“What is it, Y/N? Who is this guy?” he said.

“He’s my ex who I want nothing to do with.” He straightened his back but you pulled him by the neck so you could whisper in his ear.

“I’m so sorry, Shohei.” 

“I’m not sure I understand–” He tilted his head in confusion. Jack starts moving forward again, looking almost pissed by just looking at you and Shohei. 

With Shohei still leaning forward, you desperately grabbed his cheeks and pecked him square on the lips. 

Shock induces both Shohei’s and Jack’s faces when you pull back, eyes focused on Jack and hoping to God he’d get the message. Wild red alarms blared and rang loudly in your head, you just kissed Shohei, your hot and annoying neighbor! You just kissed him! You ignored this and focused on the problem at hand. 

“He’s my boyfriend, Jack. Please leave now–” 

Shohei recovers from his shock and kisses you back in bigger, wider and longer strokes of his tongue. The tremors in your body shook harder and you felt your limbs melt into a puddle of water. Shohei’s big warm hands were there to catch you as your knees unbuckled. 

You kissed back and forgot everything that was happening in the background. Dusty barking, Jack’s shell-shocked face, the vehicles passing by the street witnessing your spectacle. You ignored all of this and focused on the way Shohei holds on to your body from your neck, to your back until it rests to the back of your waist, gripping tight, his firm and taut body pressing hard onto you, and his lips sliding over yours so smoothly, stimulating all the senses in your tongue and mouth. 

You don’t know how many seconds passed when you stayed inside that bubble but when you both pulled back for air, Jack was no longer there and Dusty had stopped barking. Instead, he just sat quietly on the ground, waiting for you to finish. 

You stared at Shohei and you stared back at him. Your hand was still on his neck, half-gripping the nape. You slowly let go and pull away. It’s always after the sin that you feel the shame and guilt. 

He doesn’t let go and instead takes you by the shoulder. “Come inside first and we’ll talk.”

You nod wordlessly and follow his lead. You couldn’t walk properly anyway, so you didn’t want to fight back. Your knees felt like jelly and your brain full of fog. That was hot, you thought, but also very wrong.

You sat at Shohei’s dining table chugging a glass of water. By the time you finished, he sat there in front of you and continued looking at you intensely.

In your post-kiss and post-Jack clarity, you’re now too embarrassed to admit the way you handled that situation. But Shohei, being Shohei, seemed unfazed. For the most part, he found it amusing to be part of your ex-boyfriend escape plan, of all the people. 

“A man never listens to a no,” You were too focused on the rim of the glass. You want to look anywhere but Shohei’s mouth. “And I was desperate for him to get away… so I did.. That.”

“Y/N, you were trembling out there. What exactly has he done to you?” He removed the glass from your grip and made you focus on him.

“He… I… He’s an asshole when he gets angry. And I was just scared I wouldn't be able to refuse him. I don’t want him anymore.”

“For someone as arrogant and snappish as you, that’s pretty hard to believe.” You rolled your eyes at him and smirked, lips looking luscious and fuller than the last time. 

“Look, I was probably having a panic attack back there, and I’m okay now, see?” You spread your arms widely, faking a smile at him. You’d like this conversation to end so you could run back to your house and ram your head to the wall. The more you stay in Shohei’s presence, the more embarrassed you feel about wanting and enjoying that kiss. You did. You do. And you want more. 

“I wanted an easy way out, you happened to be there and I grabbed the moment.” You rambled on. “And that kiss, it was just a one-time thing.”

“A one-time thing?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was a mistake. We don’t even like each other to kiss, so we can forget about it.”

“Is that right?” His lips curled into a smirk.

“Yes, tomorrow, we act like it never happened, okay?” You stood up and started collecting yourself. You hang by the door and look back, Shohei had his arms crossed against his chest, staring at you. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. That seems pretty unforgettable to me.”

~~~~~

The following morning, you woke up early to visit the farmer's market to replenish your cupboard. You wore black tights over your long beige dress and a gray cardigan. You put your hair down in loose waves today and replaced your contacts with your old prescription eyeglasses. 

Sprawled in front of you were tents and tables of farmers and sellers of freshly harvested fruits and vegetables to your heart’s content. Almost everyone you knew from town was there on a bright day like this. You said your hellos and some, who were avid customers of Novel Nook, asked about the new book releases. Since it is a fairly small town, it is inevitable to spot the ones that you direly wanted to avoid. For example, your ex-boyfriend Jack. 

He was standing one tent away and seemed to just idly window-shopping. You put your head down and try not to meet his gaze or look at his direction as you busy yourself looking through a good bunch of tomatoes. 

“Hey, Y/N.” You put your guard down and suddenly he is in front of you. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to… buy some tomatoes?” He sneered, holding a tomato in his hand. “I don’t see your boyfriend around.”

“I…He’s… Can you please stop following me?” Cold sweat ran through your spine as he noticed you fumble, noticing your lie. 

“Lest you forget, I live here, too.” 

“Not in this side of town, you don’t.” You walked away with the bag of tomatoes you purchased. You moved quickly and avoided the throng of people that was starting to build up. 

“I just want us to talk… Y/N. You didn’t give me a chance to explain yesterday.” He continued to follow you, hands behind his back. He was obviously not there to buy tomatoes. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone or I’ll call the police.” You looked at him sternly, hand gripping tightly on the basket you were holding. One false move and you just might smash his head with a whole pineapple. 

“No boyfriend to come save you now?” Jack chuckled. 

“There you are.” A familiar voice sprung up from behind, and a hand snaked around your waist. Shohei was suddenly beside you, holding on to his own basket of shopping bags.  “I was looking all over for you. Look, I got you blueberries for the cake you were planning to bake. ”

Shohei pinched your sides and smiled, nodding at you to play along with his little act. You forced a wide smile and said, “Wow, yes. You remembered, love? Thank you.”

You both turned to Jack who had a repulsed expression on his face. He coughed up and tried to get back his composure, but it was too late as both of you were already walking away. Shohei did not let go of you even until you turned a corner. You couldn’t care less about shopping anymore as you worried about running into Jack again.

“It looks like your ex is adamant on following you around.” He whispered to your ear, looking back and seeing Jack following far behind. “Care to give him a show, love?” 

You widen your eyes as you realized what was about to happen. 

He moves his head closer to yours and locks you in a wet kiss. He pushed deeper into the kiss when you unconsciously opened your mouth and let him in, mouth and tongue. The smell of clean detergent mixed with a little bit of vanilla filled your lungs, slapping you drunk. The second kiss was just as good as the first. 

Shohei suddenly pulls back from the kiss and offers his hand, and continues walking along like he hadn’t sucked the air out of your body.

For a few more tents, you and Shohei walked around hand in hand in the cold morning, picking fruits and vegetables like your typical neighborhood couple. Many onlookers saw the two of you eating from the free taste section, or arguing about the right vegetable size to buy, or just happily chatting with his hand not letting you go. 

“Shohei, I think Jack’s no longer around.” You motion for him to let go of your hand. 

“Aw, I thought we weren’t acting anymore, the way you were kissing me back there.” He smirks and lets go of your hand, missing his warmth already. 

“I’m only letting your hand go because you look like you’re going to topple over with how heavy this basket is.” He took your groceries from you and led the way. Since you’re practically almost living together, you have no choice but to walk with him awkwardly. 

“Thank you, Shohei.” You said quietly, walking feebly behind him.

“Didn’t catch that, love. What–” He wheels around and stops himself after realizing what he said, the tips of his ears turning red. You tried to keep a straight face but failed as both of you got caught in the moment. 

“Don’t get used to it.” You giggled and skipped your steps, leaving him to carry all the shopping bags he refused to let you carry. 

~~~

You were slowly settling down for the night with a movie on and a bowl of buttered popcorn when you heard a faint knock on the door.

Shohei was standing outside with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. On his feet seems to be a brand new pet backpack carrier.

“Special delivery for one order of queen of meowtown, clingy and fuzzball Fraulein!” He beamed and pointed at the carrier. Fraulein was sitting relaxedly inside. 

“Don’t be shocked or anything but I accidentally bought two of these.” He pointed at the carrier. “I-I thought you’d like to have one for Fraulein. You don’t have to accept it i-if you…”

You smiled as he stammered on. “This looks really cute, I love it.”

Shohei smiled widely and helped push the carrier to your living room. “Then I'll give this as a gift!”

“It would be improper to receive a gift like this...”

“I refuse to accept no, Y/N. Take it please.”

You wanted to mull over it, let it marinate in your head and see what happens but ever since the first two kisses you shared with him, Shohei has been… extra friendly recently. And you were not that kind of “friend”. Whenever you pass his house, he’d go out of his way and talk to you before you walk away. Asking you questions if you’re on the way to the farmer's market, or if you’re on your way to work, if you want to join him for a run. He’s been attentive and you’re not sure what exactly this dynamic has evolved into. You feel uncomfortable about the attention you’re receiving but at the same time, you feel it in your chest and in your stomach and at the tips of your fingers. The fluttering. The tremors and the shakiness of breaths. It’s always there when he’s there. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll take it. But no more other gifts, okay!” You opened the carrier to let Fraulein out who walked idly away and climbed into her tree tower. 

Shohei smiled, nodding. He was about to leave the door when you pulled the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Wait. Um.”

He stepped back and looked inquiringly. You held up a photo from your phone to his face: it was you and Shohei on the day you went to the farmer’s market, holding hands while looking at freshly picked flowers. Shohei’s eyes squinted with laughter, looking intently at you while you were captured trying to explain something trivial. It was quite a beautiful shot sent to you by a cousin who was good at photography. More than that, if you were a stranger looking at a random photo like this, you’d think you were happily in love, and the thought made your chest flutter. 

“It’s quite a small town so it didn’t come as a shock to me when people started noticing whatever this was.” Shohei was still looking at the photo, a small smile drawn on his lips. 

“My mom’s side of the family is setting up a brunch this weekend. I usually bring Patrick to this but they wanted to meet you so…” You trailed.

You coughed and took the phone away. “It’s just a small group of people. And we can always say we broke up after three months or something.”

He cocked his head, looking confused. “Are we still doing the pretending thing with your family?”

“Yeah, I mean. We don’t like each other like that, right? We can just say it didn’t work out after three or four months. They usually move on pretty quickly from the guys I date.”

“Let me get this straight, Y/N.” He said slowly, the Adam’s apple on his throat went up and down as he swallowed. “You want to introduce me to your family as your fake boyfriend on your family brunch.”

You affirmed. “Yes.”

“And we’re going to cook up a reason to break up.”

“Yes.”

“And you said we don’t really like each other that much.”

“Not one bit”

“When we already had two kisses.”

“Yeah.”

“And went on a date in the farmer’s market walking around while holding hands. We kissed twice.”

“It  wasn’t a date.”

“It was to me.” He muttered.

“It was because you were helping me with Jack, remember?”

Shohei sighed exasperatedly, his mood darkened. “Pssh, yeah, whatever. Text me the details. G’night.” He scooted to leave and just like that you were left all alone in a confused daze in your living room. 

~~~

You spent too much time tossing and turning on your bed that night. The voices in your head and the whispers in your heart having an ongoing debate about what had happened a few hours before. 

Shohei was extremely happy, almost beaming like a kid when he brought you his gift but his expression changed after you had the conversation about your family brunch. Maybe you can sit it out this year and make up an excuse that both you and Shohei couldn’t attend? Seasonal allergies? Car getting mauled? Someone’s pet dying? Gods, no. You internally smack yourself for even being near to the thought of either your pets dying, not when they’re the closest thing you have as your best friend and family. You believe Shohei believes that, too. 

And why would Shohei become upset when you proposed the idea of a fake relationship with your family? You started this whole mess and it’s slowly getting out of hand, you want to nip it in the bud so it won’t have to hurt that much later on. It was just a one-time thing, an escape plan until Jack gets out of your hair, then both of you can live as freely as you had before. 

Besides, Shohei doesn’t like you to be that upset. Does he? He’s just a neighbor who likes joking around and annoying you whenever he gets the chance. He also just so happens to be a neighbor that Fraulein spends a lot of time on, he’s just someone to you until recently. 

You touch your fingers on your lips. That kiss shouldn’t mean anything to you because maybe Shohei doesn’t think about it that much either. He’s probably had a good number of girls that he’s kissed with that mouth. Given how good those kisses were, his expertise was undeniably top notch. You’ve never had anything like that before. A kiss that makes your insides tremble with need, almost fairytale like. Something close to what Mia Thermopolis had fantasized before her royal engagement with Nick Devereaux, a kiss that makes your leg pop. That’s what it was. A leg-popping, heart-fluttering, soul-defining kind of a  kiss that you’ll ask for more.

But as much as you want this all for yourself like the next person, you just had your heart broken by Jack. Jack who had promised you the moon and the stars, and a beautiful, dreamy, family with your pets. He had you swooning and dreaming about forever. It was all perfect until that fateful date and the cheating. It hurts to realize that no matter how much you love and do better for a person, they will always look for ways to look at other people. The idea of getting into a relationship right away after what happened with Jack is preposterous at this point. The trust and self-confidence Jack broke is something you want to piece together yourself first. Even if it meant being alone for a couple of months, or years. Who knows.  

You tossed to your side once again, feeling the sleep finally get to you. You dozed off soaking under the thoughts of kittens and kissing a tall man with contagious laughter. 

~~~~

Shohei was filling Fraulein’s food and water bowl dutifully as you had asked, waiting for you to finish preparing for the family brunch in the living room. He had finally succumbed and agreed to go with you as your fake boyfriend, despite his initial feelings towards the arrangement. He still doesn’t understand what was going through your head but he nevertheless had stopped bringing it up. He realized that the more he asked, the more you pushed back and retreated into the dark. He decided that he’d wait for you to soften up. You always do. 

And that’s how the two of you went back to being friendly with each other. 

He was sitting on your living room couch with Fraulein, brushing her fur with his fingers. Just another territory she had claimed: Shohei’s lap. 

“Shohei, help please!” You ran down the stairs, all dolled up. You put your hair down again, this time, you kept it naturally soft and straight. You also donned a yellow sundress that hugged your body, showing off your natural curves. The hems of the skirt go loose from the thighs down. 

“Can you help me zip this up, please?” You said so casually. When you turned around and showed Shohei your bare, unzipped back, he swallowed hard. 

He held your waist lightly and zipped your back slowly, as if taking his time to gape at the bareness of your skin exposed for him. When his breath touched your neck, you felt goosebumps pop. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled too widely for him, trying to act like the oxygen in your house has not depleted. 

Shohei was a hit with your cousins during brunch. Turns out that all of them share the same interests in baseball and baseball teams. They were passionately chatting on one side of the garden area while you helped your Aunt Olivia set up the table.

“He’s quite the personality, Y/N.” She mused.

“Wherever did you find a man like that, Y/N?” Your cousin Evelyn commented, staring back. “Woot, what a view.”

You smiled and looked at Shohei socializing with your family. The moment the two of you entered Aunt Olivia’s home, everyone stared in awe. After introductions were made, Shohei made connections pretty quickly with his bubbly personality. You can also hear his occasional booming laughter from their group.

You were on your way to the kitchen when a hand on your waist suddenly pulled you from behind. Shohei led you to the empty pantry and pushed you back to the wall, his hands up on the wall and caging you.

“Hi?” 

“Hi.” He looked deep into your eyes, like he was looking for something. “Anyplace in this house, we are pretending, yes?”

“Yes, the moment we stepped out of the car. We are boyfriend and girlfriend.” You confirmed.

“Even here?” His lips shadowed lightly on yours, nose grazing yours. 

“Uhm. Yes.” You breathed and that would be your last breath for a while as Shohei kissed you full on the mouth. 

He kissed you frantically, with need and fervor. You put your hands over his shoulders and his hands reached the back of your leg, putting it over his waist. You stifled a moan as he bit your neck and peppered your chest with small kisses. You can’t help but push your hips forward and roll it against his. 

You broke apart like a deer in headlights when you heard footsteps nearby. You pushed Shohei and straightened your clothes. You wiped Shohei’s lipstick-stained mouth and ran away as fast as you could. Shohei, who was as kiss-hungry and love drunk as you were, could only smirk at your retreating form. 

During brunch, you sat with Aunt Olivia on your right and Shohei, by default, on your left side. You were trying to make conversation about the current weather news report while eating your plate of mashed potatoes, all while trying to avoid any contact with Shohei. 

He noticed you have been avoidant after the hot makeout session in the pantry. He put a hand on your thigh under the table, pinching it with reassurance.

“Are we good, Y/N?”

You nodded wordlessly and smiled at him. Something about the way Shohei’s attentiveness always hits you to your core. You’ve never felt this so cared for before that it’s almost bewitching. 

The party started getting up and divided: your aunts and uncles dancing happily on one side, your cousins taking selfies on the other. Meanwhile you and Shohei were left sitting comfortably by the dining table, enjoying the sweet ambiance of everyone around you. 

You held his arm gingerly, almost seductively when you felt his hard muscles from his shirt. A few moments ago, you had almost stripped him naked in the pantry with all of your aunt’s condiments as your audience.

“Why are you so toned? What are you working out for?” You said jokingly, pressing on his biceps in amazement.

“I’m preparing for the next man who tries to steal you.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear. You giggled. 

“No one can take me away from you!” You whispered back, resting your head on his shoulder. You were on your third glass of wine and it isn’t noon yet. You feel tipsy and giggly in the comfort of Shohei’s strong arms. 

“And this is a toast to our new couple, Y/N and Shohei, may this relationship be longer than the last one.” Uncle Ben bellowed, attracting laughter from the rest of the family. They clinked their glasses and toasted for the nth time today. 

You raised your own glass and sipped your wine. 

“Don’t mind them, they’re always like that when I bring a guy to brunch.”

He caressed your thigh and wanted to push the button. “Which guys?”

“Hm? Oh just Jack and Patrick. Although Patrick doesn’t count, because he’s my bestie.” Shohei looked at you and wondered who Patrick may be. He felt a bubbling feeling at the pit of his stomach. Is he jealous? Angry? That he wasn’t the first person you introduced to your family. He shrugged it off. This is just all an act, anyway. Get your shit together, man.

“This may be my favorite brunch ever.” You concluded, finishing the last few drops of your wine. Shohei stole the glass from your hand and replaced it with his. 

“The weather is perfect, the food is great, all of my mom’s family is here. And I don’t feel alone… thanks to you.” You traced circles on the back of Shohei’s palm with your thumb. 

“Why don’t we end this with a bang, Y/N?”

Shohei’s smile invites you to a peck on the lips. He held the back of your head and gently kissed you deeply, slowly this time. You don’t resist and he doesn’t let go. You hear cheers from the background as you kiss softly. Shohei kisses you for the last time today with the hopes that it removes the uncertainty in your mind. That when he kisses you better this time, it would change your mind. He prays to all the gods that would listen.

You melt into the moment and hope it never ceases, because you go back to normal after it ends. After today, you and Shohei will be two separate people once again. And that hurts the deeper parts of you without you realizing it. 

~~~~

Shohei escorted you back home after the brunch. You rode in complete silence all the way. You really really didn’t want it to end but you also didn’t want to drag Shohei into a life that you’re not a hundred percent sure of yet. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You hung back at the entrance and Shohei waited, hoping you’d say something more. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

He sighed. “Wait, Y/N. Is that it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Are we just gonna go back to the way it was now that you’re done pretending?” He said almost angrily. 

“Well, that’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“That’s your plan. I don’t want this to end. Did you ever wonder why I had agreed to it without asking anything in return? Because I didn’t need to pretend at all. It was all real to me.”

You stood there dumbfounded at the sudden outburst of confession from him. You thought Shohei would be more than willing to go back to his old,  uninvolved life with you. But he was right. You never once stopped to think why he was more than willing to help you get away from Jack, or to help you lie in front of your family. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly when I asked you this…” You blink back tears forming. 

Shohei walks up to you and rests his hands on your shoulders. “I don’t want this to end. Do you?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for all of this, Shohei.” You squeaked, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re the most attentive, thoughtful, and sincerest man I’ve ever been blessed to meet. Even I get breathless thinking how lucky I’d be if I let you in…

“This whole fake dating thing was a mess. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my problems.”

“Y/N. Please don’t shut me out. Let me in, I’d go to the trouble of warding off your ex-boyfriend if I need to. I’ll be here for whatever.” Shohei begged. You shook your head firmly.

“I’m not ready yet, Shohei. I loved every moment I have spent with you, but I need to be with myself for now.” 

Shohei dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back, his eyes glistening with tears. 

“See you around, then.”

You watched him walk away until he disappeared into his home. You closed your door and plopped down on the floor. The tears that you were holding back came gushing out, and finally you were bawling. You didn’t cry this hard when Jack cheated on you but when you saw Shohei walking away because of your own doing, you felt like your world had collapsed. You wept until there were no tears left to cry, until the only pain you have left to bear was the hollowness of what Shohei left. You crawled into a ball by the door, clothes unchanged, makeup running down your face. Fraulein snuggles up to you minutes after, sharing her warmth.

Looks like it's just you and me again, Fraulein. 

In the next couple of weeks, you would rise early to tend to your plants, volunteer additional hours in Novel Nook so you could get home later than usual, and avoid the farmer’s market. You added wearing a baseball cap or large hats as a new fashion ensemble to steer away from eye contact at the risk of bumping into Shohei. The thing  is, your efforts to avoid him were reduced to nil as you bumped into him everywhere you went. When you throw out the trash as early as five o'clock in the morning, he’d be there, warming up or jogging on your path.  When you went to the farmer's market later than usual, he was also there doing after-rush hour shopping. Even administering Fraulein’s medicine time was an arduous task seeing that she still hangs around Shohei’s porch, not understanding your human conflict and emotions towards each other. 

There are days when you feel better and the sun is shining, but there are also moments when you catch yourself at the brink of a breakdown. It takes a while for the loneliness to settle in like an unwanted guest, creeping over your shoulder, sometimes hugging you at night. It wasn’t this hard before you met Shohei, so how was it different now?

“All good, Y/N?” You lost your train of thought at the voice of Aunt Olivia. You couldn’t bear the loneliness and the quiet of your home that you packed your stuff and stayed for a week’s worth of vacation. She joined you in the indoor kitchen table, where you were having your mid-afternoon coffee. 

“Boy problems?” she suggested. One look from you and she already knew. 

“Aunt Liv, how do you know if you’re ready to love again?” You said after a moment of silence. 

“You don’t.” She smiled and cupped your hands. “You fuck around then find out.”

She chuckled to herself. “You remind me so much of your mom. She was always scared of trivial matters, like falling in love.

“But when she had a good taste in it, she never looked back.”

Aunt Liv has always been fond of her little sister. Your mom. And hearing these words from her, reminiscent of how she had been when she was your age, twinged at your heart a little bit. 

“I’m not the one who’d pry on your relationships, Y/N. But he’s a keeper, that boy. I thought he was joking at first, but he seems to be serious about it.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “What do you mean by that?”

“He said something when I got him alone that day. He’d said, you were tougher than a potato under hot water. But he’s willing to wait for you to soften up no matter how hot it gets.”

Leave it to Shohei to drop potato metaphors to your relatives on their first meeting. 

“When a man like that comes around, I won’t ever let him go. You’re lucky if you ever meet the same kind of man twice.”

You pondered on about Aunt Liv’s advice for the rest of the day; by nighttime, you felt an epiphany dawn upon you. The next day, you packed up and went home earlier than you had planned. 

“Go get him, bubba.” Aunt Liv wished you luck. You’ll need all the luck you can get and hope it wasn’t too late. 

It took you approximately an hour to get home by taxi, the car zigzagging across the street. 

You don’t know why you were rushing. He wasn’t going anywhere, not to your knowledge. He will always be right where you left him but something inside you was telling you that a second more that you’re away from home, and you’d lose him. 

You were trying to catch your breath as you ran on your side of the street when you bumped into Shohei leaving your front lawn, a pail and shovel over his shoulders.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He was covered in dirt from the knee up, his white shirt sticking to his body and full of sweat. He looked a little shocked and panicked at being caught mid-exit from your garden. 

“I should ask you the same question. What were you doing in my lawn?” You tried to take a peek but Shohei covered your path with his wide body. “Did you bury a body there?”

“I think that’s a good idea for your fertilizer, Y/N!” He seemed a little agitated and making offbeat jokes to distract you. 

“Step away. What did you do to my garden?” You pushed him with all the adrenaline coursing through you and jogged towards your front lawn, expecting a murder crime scene or worse, a decaying garden. 

Instead, you saw hundreds of tulips in different shades and colors spread all throughout your garden. Purple and yellow tulips lined up the path towards your home. Red and pink tulips danced in the background, swaying every time a soft breeze brushed through. 

“You’re not supposed to see it yet. I thought you’d be back tomorrow night.” Shohei said, rubbing the nape of his head, embarrassed at being caught.

“You remembered when I said… At the farmer’s market…” You stammered.

“Yes, you went on and on about how much you love tulips.” You suddenly remembered the photo before the brunch party. How Shohei was looking fondly at you as he listened to you rambling on about something trivial. It wasn’t trivial to him because it was important to you. And he remembered. 

You turned around and faced him. You held out a hand and wiped a bit of sweat off of his face. “Did you do all of this… on your own?”

He nodded shyly. “That’s not all, though.” He whistled and called Dusty.

“You’re the most stubborn and one hell of a fiery woman. But you’re also the sweetest, softest, clingiest woman I’ve lucked out on. You’re so beautiful sometimes it hurts. After that second kiss, I knew right away that I’d have to fight tooth and nail for you to keep needing and wanting me."

Dusty bursted out of Shohei’s garden stringing along a reluctant Fraulein scruffed by the neck. Both of them were wearing cute red bow ties on their neck each laced with individual messages. 

You pulled Dusty’s message and read, “I want to call you “mom” so will you be my dad’s girlfriend?

You squealed in delight as you unraveled the next message pinned on Fraulein’s bow tie: “I loved him first but can you keep him forever?”

You swooned and laughed at the corniness and the teeth-rotting sweetness. You can’t help but jump into Shohei’s arms and give him a big hug despite all the sweat and grime on his body. 

“Ew, you got all your sweat on me.” You playfully joked at the parting.

“Hmm, you have no choice but to shower with me now.” He lifted you by the waist and carried you on top of his shoulders, both of you laughing and shrieking like newly weds on honeymoon, Dusty and Fraulein at your tails. 

.This place, this scene, and this warmth spreading through your chest up to your fingertips, all of it and the familiarity of it, you realized, is the only thing you need to live a lifetime of love and happiness. You were wondering where it was all this time and you understand now that it had been right beside you all along.

[go-scottishgal14]

UK Times skewers H&M...

After a month of glorious silence, Meghan’s back — as wronged and stoic as ever

Hilary Rose

Wednesday October 05 2022, 12.00pm, The Times

Because I always strive to be a happy little elf, I will start with the happy news. It’s been four weeks, nearly a whole month of glorious silence, since the last episode of Meghan’s podcast.

To recap, previous episodes proved to be the most persuasive argument ever heard for living off-grid. The Duchess of Sussex delayed the next one until the official mourning period for the Queen was over and, to be fair, a month without Meghan is surely what the Queen would have wanted.

But all good things must come to an end and now she’s back, as wronged and stoic as ever, telling the sad truths we must all take on board if we are to become better people. Or something. I won’t lie, these are tough times to be a happy little elf, although the news this week that she employs a fact-checker on the podcast is beyond parody and cheered me up no end. Is one enough? Will she ever develop the ability to fact-check before she opens her mouth?

● Meghan Markle’s Archetypes podcast review — almost entirely preposterous

In this episode, she starts strongly, if incomprehensibly, with ghormeh and larb. Apparently they’re foodstuffs. Her guest is Margaret Cho, a successful Asian-American actress, activist and comedian. Cho has many interesting things to say about the perceptions and stereotypes surrounding Asian-American women, and whole seconds go by in which she is allowed to say them uninterrupted.

Ultimately, though, it falls to Meghan to point out that “all people” are multidimensional and layered, although no mention of elves, which makes me wonder if I am truly seen. She also confides that she loves Los Angeles because it is “full of culture”, which makes me sad, not happy, because if only we had some culture of our own, maybe she’d have stuck around.

It’s been a busy time for the Sussexes. Watching the Queen’s funeral, did they recall hitting back at her with the jibe “Everyone can live a life of service”? Probably not. The brand building is going brilliantly, though, or at least better than that tin-eared visit to a Californian cemetery on Remembrance Sunday.

Only yesterday, in a last desperate plea for privacy, they released new photographs of themselves. Meghan goes for smouldering stateswoman. Harry, bless him, manages something closer to gormless or, in the word of royal biographer Hugo Vickers, sad.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex were pictured holding hands before attending the opening ceremony of One Young World in September -- MISAN HARRIMAN

Back home in California, there are reports that they’re trying to row back on the Netflix documentary that pays the mortgage, and that Harry is frantically trying to tone down his memoir now that his father is King. He might be panicking because it’s too mean about Camilla, as some suspect, or he might just want to bring it bang up to date with all the many slights he no doubt feels they suffered while they were here. Some were uniform related, as they always are.

My favourite is the story that Meghan had to be banned from going to Scotland, a country she usually flies straight over. Just this summer, the couple allegedly declined to holiday at Balmoral, when the Queen was still alive, but perhaps the fact-checker can get to the bottom of it.

They’ve parted ways from their American PR company, Sunshine Sachs, which successfully remained in their employment for more than half an hour and deserves a long-service medal with the P45. And they appear to have suffered the indignity of being NFI to the launch of George and Amal Clooney’s charitable foundation.

For legal reasons, we must consider the possibility that they were invited but chose not to go, before snorting into our tea and proceeding. The event featured exactly the sort of Obama-heavy guest list they’d like to be on, and it is exactly the sort of glitzy foundation, honouring worthy people, which they’re struggling to establish for themselves, possibly because the fascination with their navels remains strong.

We don’t yet know the pain they’re feeling about the continued uncertainty over Archie and Lilibet’s titles, but we can be sure they’ll keep it to themselves. Harry spent his entire life cursing his royal title, so it must be excruciating for him that his children may never get to experience the full horror of being an HRH.

Anyone who thinks, “Hmmm, didn’t he once speak about severing the cycle of genetic pain suffered by royal children?” must have misremembered, as Meghan once told a High Court judge. I will leave you with Meghan’s closing remarks, as rendered by the transcript of the podcast, which it warns is automatically generated and may not be accurate. Judge for yourself. I’m just an elf.

“Be yourself your full complete whole layered, sometimes weird, sometimes awesome, but always best.” Quite so. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

[dangerous-advantage]

Number 16? 💜

[link to ask prompts]

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

oh man... calling me out, huh? /lh

off the top of my head, including everything from vague ideas to the fully fleshed out ones, to the ones i've actually written stuff for? nine (at least). which may not seem like a lot, but as i am incapable of writing anything short and/or sweet, that is way more than i am capable of handling at the moment, haha.

as for the au, i've talked about this before on here, but i've fleshed it out a little more to a place where i'm happier with it! so, here's my origami ghost au!

credit where credit is due, i got the og idea/sick-ass name from @noodlenoodlenoodlenoodle. (thanks for letting me adopt this au, and play around with it! i swear i'll write that seratello follow-up fic one of these days <3)

the basic premise is this: leo gets put in a coma, and nobody knows why or how. mikey, who was with him when it happened, was found in a similar state, but woke up the next morning with no memories of what happened. everybody keeps hoping that he'll wake up, writing notes and folding them into little origami shapes for him to read through when he recovers. but time progresses, and they begin to lose hope.

when strangely folded origami notes start appearing around the lair, often scrawled with incomprehensible writing, the mad dogz begin to wonder. raph, not wanting to inspire false hope, dismisses the occurrences, encouraging the others to do the same. however, raph has a few suspicions of his own. enlisting the help of cassandra in order to avoid the suspicion of his brothers, they begin following the trail of strange, mangled origami animals and their often nonsense notes. following a series of clues to the gutters and back alleys of new york and the hidden city, they begin to uncover the truth behind what is happening. old grudges start to come to light, and with each secret uncovered, they find themselves beginning to question the very nature of what's been happening, leading them to ask the larger question behind it all: why?

meanwhile, donnie doesn't buy it. things just aren't adding up, and he's frustrated that raph seems so willing to just let something like this go. leo and him have always been close, and he doesn't believe for a second that his brother is beyond hope. he confesses his feelings on the matter to april, who has been having similar thoughts. the two of them decide to start doing a little research of their own on the side, without the knowledge of the others. on a hunch, they head to the mystic library (which they are banned from) and are able to "convince" (blackmail) a newer employee-- the long-suffering usagi yuichi-- to aid them on their quest. thrown into a world of ancient rituals, cursed items, and other "mystic bullshit" (donnie's words), the b team soon finds there's much more to this than they had thought. not to mention, things get dicey when their meddling goes just a bit too far, and somebody gets paranoid. (thank god they have a rabbit bodyguard...)

finally, mikey. mikey, whose been taking this all the hardest, whose brothers have been disappearing more and more often. who can't seem to remember what happened that night, and blames himself more with each passing day. not to mention, due to the effects of the invasion, his hands are too shaky to fold origami "right" (his words.) mikey begins to withdraw, acting like he's fine, while internally, he begins to obsess over what happened that night. his family doesn't seem to notice, being so busy with things they won't tell him about. it seems like it should be easy to slip out, leaving the others unaware, but he didn't count on thing: casey jr, leo's shadow and unspoken "second-in-command." in the spirirt of looking out for him, casey demands he be let in on whatever mikey is planning. mikey isn't happy, but he relents, letting casey in on a secret: he does remember something from that patrol. something that's been keeping him up at night. something that he isn't quite sure he can trust. together, the two of them start looking for the truth behind exactly what happened that night, and more importantly: who is to blame. driven by his growing anger, with casey keeping an eye out for him, he dons the moniker of the 'origami ghost,' venturing into the darkest parts of the city in search of a killer. but to catch a killer, mikey might just have to become one.

(featuring: my raph & cass qp agenda, donnie's horrible realization that feelings are a thing that exists (ew!), and some good old fashioned villan!mikey <3)

[stevishabitat]

What have I done???

A few months ago, my kiddo (age 10) caught me sketching out some timeline stuff for a fic. I described the vague idea I was working on, and kiddo looked at me like I was an incomprehensible being (typical) and that was that.

Somehow, today, the topic came up again. And kiddo was like "So how is that story going?" And I pulled up my document and was like - eh I've got some vague outlines and some smatterings of dialogue and that's about it.

And then kiddo is reading over my shoulder... "Tea? Loki is having a conversation about tea?" and I'm like, mind your own business, small one!

Then, while I'm doing my actual job-work, kiddo is poking around on my computer and adding themself as a viewer on the doc.

Next thing I know, I see kiddo's avatar in my doc, and kiddo is laying on my bed reading on their phone and says "Are you just gonna leave it like that? Where's the rest?"

Y'all.... This is not.... I mean.....

What do you do when your kid starts reading your fics and demanding more???

This is not addressed in any parenting book I've ever read.

I am so screwed. There is no universe where this ends well.

Seriously, this kid has been hiding their reading ability for who knows how long, and getting cranky every time I bring a new book into the house - no matter what it is ("You know I hate books! I don't read!" followed by literally trying to throw the books in the bin or at least put them outside. )

And now... Apparently the thing that they want to read... is my wip.

Seriously, fml.

Goddammit.

I guess I have to freaking write the damn thing now.

But y'all, I haven't completed a fic in... Years. Like, a LOT of years.

All I've done for the last decade is vomit dialogue into docs and walk away.

I am beyond rusty. I don't even know how to start anymore. I can't write action or description to save my life.

And now I'll have to be sure I'm writing age-appropriate for a 10yo. A 10yo of unknown reading ability level and a damn big brain.

Dear god.

Send help.

[charliedawn]

What is their reaction when they find out that they may have grown attached to you ?

You know how Jason can be very insecure and self-conscious ? Well. Prepare for a whole new level. He will check himself in the mirror when you're not looking, and if he doesn't like what he is seeing ? He will smash the mirror and go in a corner to sit and move back and forth, to give himself some reassurance. He still remembers what his mother used to tell him.

" Persons are a nuisance, Jason. You don't need them to survive."

But then, why does he feel like he needs you ? He feels conflicted as to what to believe.

Super jumpy ! He will jump almost every time you touch him or lose his grip of the things he is holding, often ending broken and splattered on the floor. He would be as clumsy as Jason and would want you to spend more time with him. However, he would also be scared of you breaking his heart.

" I..I c..care.."

Like many of your patients, Brahms has trouble finding his words. At first, many thought he was mute, like Jason or Michael. This is why hearing him speak to you always means it is important.

" I..I care.."

He wants to say many things, how he cherishes every moment you spend together, how you make his heart race everytime you are near him or how he wants you to be by his side forever..But, he can't. He can just hope that what he feels can be expressed through eye contact. You may not understand what he wants to say, but you still try to understand. You put your hand on his and reply with a compassionate smile.

" I care about you too. You are a very good friend, Brahms.."

Did you just indirectly friendzone him ? Possibly..You walk out and Brahms sighs before sitting on his bed while hugging his doll to comfort him.

" You turn me on."

He will be absolutely frank about it. He will just step up and tell you in front of anyone. He doesn't give a damn if the others hear him as well. Also, creep alert, will watch you sleep. He will sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night and just look at you sleep. He wants to touch you so bad, but he knows that that would wake you up. And he doesn't want that. He will just admire you from afar, even pretend that you may like him back. He would just want to get close to you, to look at you and wonder what you may be dreaming about..hoping that you are dreaming of him.

" Oh my sweet..You look so perfect when you sleep.."

Now..You know how Five is very serious about his relationship with Dolores ? Well, you better be prepared by lots of imaginary fights between the two of them, and even a break-up ! *gasp* Drama. He would be in a very bad mood and would scream and attack everyone that approaches his personal space. He would also smash everything in his room. Like, everything. So much that the other nurses would be too scared of him and ask you to handle it.

" Hey. Are you okay, Five ? Did something happen ?"

He would snort and look up at you with visible frustration.

" You happened. Dolores and I broke up. Not that she was one to share her feelings anyway."

You frown in incomprehension before asking with a small airy laugh.

" I don't understand, what does that have to do with me ?"

Your question seems to trigger a nerve and he suddenly stands up to look at you dead in the eye with anger and, somehow, pain..

" Everything ! You're too nice ! Too forgiving ! Too perfect ! You wiped our past as if it was nothing, goddammit ! We're serial killers, Y/N! We're monsters and you treat us as if we were..as if we were.."

He doesn't get to finish that sentence as he seems on the verge of tears. He jumps on his bed to sit and hide his face behind his knees. You seem to finally understand the problem and sigh before sitting next to Five.

" It's okay to have feelings, Five. You can't hide them forever. I'm sorry if it upsets you but, I don't think you're all that bad. Sure, you kill and even eat people. But, I've seen you change. You are a lot less violent and a few more months ? And I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time."

He looks up at you again with a sort of desperation, very uncharacteristic of Five, before finally asking in a tearful voice.

" What if..What if I don't want to go back ? Out there, I'm just a freak. But, here ? I got.."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but you guess what he is going to say and smile understandingly.

"..Friends ?"

He doesn't answer, he only suddenly hugs you tightly and hides his face in your skirt. You hesitate before slowly petting the top of his head affectionately. The gesture seems to relax him, but he quickly straightens up and wipes his tears away. He then stands up and apologizes.

" I..I'm sorry, it was highly inappropriate of me. I'll..I'll let you work."

Before you could say anything, he runs out of the room and leaves you confused and worried.

Lots of uncontrollable laughter. More than usual. He is very nervous when you're around him and sometimes cries while laughing, showing that he is deeply ashamed of his condition. He is very bipolar and will sometimes act very casually around you, only to break into tears when you leave the room. He will stare at you and turn his gaze away as soon as you would notice.

" Well, would you look at that ? Sir Sh*tty the clown seems to have a little crush on the nice nurse.."

Pennywise would tease him about it while Penny cackles behind him. Arthur glares at them both before either ignoring them or leaving the room.

No. Nope. Certainly not. He will try to hide from you. He knows very well what he is feeling, and also what happens to the people he feels this way towards. He just managed to get rid of his curse, he is not about to risk getting on a murder rampage again ! Every time he would see you, he would pretend to be busy or hide. One time, he even jumped out the window to get away from you. It is very odd since Michael is normally the most chill and calm out of all the patients. But one look at you ? And he becomes a panicking mess. He has to get away. He doesn't want to hurt you like he hurt everyone else close to him, like he hurt his family..

" Me ? Having feelings ? Ah !"

One word: denial. He doesn't want to hear about things like feelings. He saved you ? Bah. It was only because he was bored. He will deny everything, but still follow you and pop up out of nowhere to see what you're doing. He enjoys talking to you, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

" Pennywise..You're staring again."

Penny would gently warn him as his big brother would pretend to not have done such a thing.

" Can't an old clown appreciate to look at nice things sometimes ?"

Penny frowns, not understanding his big brother's words until Freddy intervenes by popping next to him with a huge grin.

" Let it go, kid. Your big bro is just too much of a chicken to go talk to her.."

Pennywise growls in annoyance at Freddy before raising his middle finger at him.

" F*ck off Freddy ! At least I don't watch her sleep like a total perv !"

That would result in a fight that you would have to break. Again..

" Pennywise..I think I'm sick.."

Pennywise would admit some day to Pennywise that would sigh in annoyance.

" Stop saying stupid sh*t. You know very well that we can't be sick."

But, upon seeing the devastated face of his brother, Pennywise sighs loudly before turning towards him to focus his whole attention on him.

" Fiiinnneee...Tell me."

Penny's mood seems to lit up as his brother seems to be willing to listen to him.

" OK, so it concerns the nurse, Y/N. Everytime they are near me, I feel things in my stomach, like a million kids were kicking me in there..Everytime they touch me, I feel as if a part of me in my chest is about to burst and I feel warm, very very warm. And then, I feel very very bad when they talk to anyone else..It's horrible. I want it to stop..Should I eat them ?"

Pennywise stays silent for a while before saying with an unusual straight face.

" Penny.."

He starts, but Penny starts panicking as he sees the sour look on his brother's face.

" Oh ! It's bad, isn't it ?! What is it ?! How long do I have ?!"

Pennywise rolls his eyes dramatically at his brother's exaggerated reaction before cutting him off in his worried questions.

" Shut up, you idiot ! You're not dying. You're just feeling.."things" for them."

Penny stops talking and frowns in confusion, his eyes diverging in deep concentration, as if trying to understand Pennywise's words.

" Things ?! What things ?!"

He finally asks with his eyes wide open in obvious loss and Pennywise face-palms himself before answering with a loud sigh.

" You're falling in love, you dumb f*ck !"

At the word, Penny's face freezes and his smile goes downwards as he realizes that his older brother is right.

" Oh, sh*t.."

He curses and Pennywise frowns, as Penny hates curses.

" Language ! I'm the only one allowed to use curses, remember ?!"

Penny nods before asking in a worried tone.

" How do I get rid of it ? I don't like it.."

Pennywise can't help but feel sorry for Penny, as he knew better than anyone that there was no turning back..

" I'm sorry kid. But if it's really love ? You can't..like I can't.."

Penny's eyes widen at his brother's confession.

" You..You..love her too ?"

Pennywise seems to realize what he just said and groans before walking away. He didn't want anyone to know, even though Penny is his brother. Penny understands the wish of his brother to be left alone and starts walking out in the garden to think over what his older brother said..Could it be ? Could he really be falling in love ?

Bonus : The deal

The Horde is blindfolded and dragged to another room where a man and a woman are waiting for them. At first look, he can already tell that this man is one of the unworthy. The unbroken. The weak..His interest is cut short and he then turns towards the woman sitting next to him. Now, this one was interesting..Her eyes betrayed a much deeper complexity and she had a scar running from her forehead to her left cheek that proved she was worthy.

" You..You are broken. Rejoice.."

The woman smiles, but before she could start talking, her partner does it for her.

" Mister Wendell Crumb, we have a mission for you."

But Kevin only grits his teeths at the man.

" You are impure..I want to kill you.."

The man arks an eyebrow, but ignores his threat.

" Fine. Whatever. But first, I want you to be my spy. We didn't get you out of this prison for nothing, mister Wendell Crumb. We want you to be our little spy in the facility. We want you to find out how a certain miss L/N managed to control the patients outside of the facility. Do that, and you'll be as free as a bird..Do we have a deal ?"

He frowns, they wanted him to spy on a nurse ? She must be quite special for them to go to such lengths, to use him as a spy..Yes, quite the unique prey. The Beast was already impatient and Kevin licks his lips before nodding.

" Fine, but on one condition. When you're finished with her, I get to eat her heart.."

The request seems to take the man aback, but it is the lady that Kevin is looking at. She smiles coldly before nodding in agreement.

" Deal."

Kevin finally smiles widely and can't help the excited giggle that gets out from deep within him. Then, the dark and low voice of the beast makes itself heard as the smile grows almost ferocious as he announces. .

" Let the hunt begin.."

[priortoallthoughts]

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

[lacharcutiere]

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you��ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

[jamespotterthefirst]

For A Long Time Now (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 3

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)

Words: 2K

Warning: Implied adult situations

Premise: He can finally tell her the three words he meant to say for a long time.

Author’s Note: The non-premium Ethan love confession is supreme and nothing will convince me otherwise. This is named after it. 

I.

The bright beams of moonlight illuminated the small, charming bedroom when Ethan awoke. One glance at the digital clock on her bedside informed him it was almost two in the morning. With a sigh that sounded louder in the still darkness, he sank back into her pillows, his heart beating a content, steady beat at the prospect of having just a few more hours by her side. 

A few hours, though a miserable consolation, were welcomed if it meant having her in his arms, peaceful and beautiful. Ethan glanced down at her, unable to avoid feeling awestruck. Her steady breath ebbed and flowed gently, caressing his skin as she slept against his chest, her ear pressed against the heart that beat for her. A few hours were a small but welcomed triumph.

Soon, dawn would break across the sky, announcing the beginning of a new day and bringing them closer to their inevitable end. 

It was as though his misery was a force so strong, it pressed into her because at that moment, she stirred 

“Mmmm.” She let out a small hum of protest twisting and tangling her limbs further in the sheets. When she opened her eyes, she blinked slowly at first then rapidly, pushing away sleep.

“Hi,” she greeted, her fogged expression melting into a tired but breathtaking smile.

“Hey,” he returned with a small smirk. 

Lilac bit her bottom lip against a second smile, this one playful and coquettish. And just like that, they were drawn to one another again, plucking kisses with hot, languid strokes of their mouths. Their movements became slow, lazy, as though they had all the time in the world. 

His heart ached when he realized how untrue that was.

Lilac, lips bruised from his kiss, beamed at him when they broke apart. 

“Why are you awake this early? Don't tell me you actually get up at two in the morning to start your day.”

“Three thirty, actually.”

Lilac made a sound of faux disgust that made him laugh. “If you made me get up that early daily, I'd murder you.”

His stomach gave an involuntary swoop at the implication. She meant if they spent many nights together, not just one night before their return to attending and intern. If they woke up next to each other every morning, stealing kisses as they prepared for their day. If they had more than just mere hours left to be together. 

Lilac seemed to catch the meaning of her words because she blushed. She opened her mouth, mortified, perhaps to dissuade the tension in the quiet bedroom with characteristic rambling. Ethan summoned a crooked smirk before she could get the words out. 

“Not even if I woke you up to do this?” 

In one graceful stroke of movement he had her on top of him, straddling his waist. His lips trailed slow, delicate kisses along her throat, inspiring the most delicious of moans. By the time he reached her jaw, she was breathless. 

“Ethan,” she whimpered, begging him for more. 

He was happy to oblige, fulfilling every one of her panting pleas until, with mingled cries and moans, they collapsed against the heap of pillows. 

“You can absolutely wake me up like that in a few hours.” She snuggled against his chest as she said this, this time listening aptly to his frenzied pulse. 

Ethan chuckled, pulling her close. 

They remained silent for a moment, contently listening to the distant lull of the city. As his breath slowly returned to normal, his eyes scanned the space of her bedroom, taking in every detail he could commit to memory. 

There were many pictures of whom Ethan assumed were her family—lively, kind-faced people, some who shared her same nose, others her smile, few her eyes. Then, in the many frames cluttering the desk, were the familiar faces of her friends, laughing and smiling in just as familiar places: Donahue's, the coast, even Edenbrook. For a wistful moment, he allowed himself to imagine a photo of the two of them framed and placed at her bedside. Lilac would be kissing his cheek and Ethan would fail to fight back a smile, no doubt looking the happiest he'd ever look in his life. 

For a moment he imagined they were just Ethan and Lilac, not Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Allende. 

A swirl of dark clouds slowly floated away, leaving the moon unobstructed. 

In the full light of the moon, he realized they could be both. Ethan wasn't her direct supervisor. If he pulled some strings and asked another attending to be her supervisor, perhaps they could… 

Lilac shifted slightly and hummed meekly, tilting her face up to him. “What are you thinking about?” 

Her voice was thick with exhaustion, both from her trial earlier and from the celebration after. 

Her lids appeared heavy with sleep, already halfway closed. Ethan almost chuckled at the sight, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. 

“You.”

Lilac smiled despite the veil of sleep starting to overwhelm her, savoring the single word. With another small sigh, she snuggled against his chest, her hand sliding up to rest by his collarbone. 

God, he loved it when she did that.

Ethan paused. 

Love. 

A foolish concept he once scoffed at or tried to explain away with scientific facts. Yet, he loved many things about her, he knew that as extensively as he knew medicine.

Ethan swallowed, fingers absently playing with her silky hair.

He loved her.

There was no point in denying what he had known for weeks, what he had felt since perhaps the moment she held his hand on the loveseat of the NICU. As he held her then, Ethan doubted that was an accurate estimate of when his feelings started. He was already in the middle by the time he was forced to accept the undeniable fact that he was in love with Lilac Allende. 

I love you. 

Thinking the words felt like an echo. Merely replaying them in his mind was no longer enough. Simply thinking them felt like a travesty, a complete lack of respect for the beautiful, brilliant woman in his arms. He had to say them, professionalism and propriety be damned. 

He could figure the rest out later. 

She had to know. 

“Lilac?” 

“Hmm?” 

The sound was soft, distant. When he glanced down, she was asleep, breathing peacefully against his chest. With a sad but resigned smile, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead instead. 

-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

II.

June and Baz filed out without a backward glance. Lilac, however, lingered behind as was her custom. Of that much, Ethan was certain before he even turned around to face her. His eyes locked with a pair of curious green ones and his stomach dove, an involuntary reaction to her.

“Can I help you with something, Dr. Allende?” 

She arched an eyebrow at him. “So formal,” she commented as she stepped into his embrace. “That's not what you called me last night.”

The false innocence she injected into that little whisper drove him insane. His fingers clenched her hips, wishing for nothing more than to fold her over his desk. Instead, he smirked down at her. 

“I don't believe I called you anything last night.”

“Mmm, you didn't. You were too distracted making out with me. I doubt you could string two words together.”

Lilac kissed him again, this time taking great care to push her body against his. Ethan groaned into her mouth, convinced this type of torture was worse than any other. They had only shared hungry kisses on several occasions, but Ethan never allowed it to proceed any further, even if his body protested that decision often. 

He didn't think he could bear the pain of separation when she inevitably moved on next year. 

“Maybe I’ll let you call me that in bed,” she murmured.

Ethan groaned again. 

Luckily for him, her pager interrupted their moment and Ethan was spared from making a fool of himself by trying to stammer out a reply. Lilac glanced down and sighed wistfully.

“I have to go,” she lamented, making little effort to move away. “They’re going to have the results for the Senator’s lead testing soon.” 

Ethan barely heard her, too busy memorizing the curve of her lips, the cluster of freckles on her nose, the exact shade of forest green with flickers of gold from her eyes. 

“Are we still doing dinner at your place tonight?” she asked, completely unaware of his lovestruck admiration. “You owe me that Gregorian stuffed chicken from last time.”

Overwhelmed, Ethan merely nodded.

With one last smile, she craned her neck to kiss him goodbye, her hand lingering on his jaw when they broke apart. 

Ethan watched her approach the door, a sense of urgency gripping him. After everything they had been through that year, his heart beat just as relentlessly for her. That much was clear from their recent slip in conviction. If Ethan was being honest, his heart had never faltered once, not even when he tried to put distance between them by escaping to Brazil. 

Every kiss since the one they shared outside his apartment was proof of one irrevocable truth. 

He never stopped loving her.

He doubted he ever would. 

“Lilac?”

“Hmm?” 

She halted right as she reached the door, looking over her shoulder curiously. 

I love you. 

Ethan opened his mouth, throat straining against a sudden knot. Before the words formed, that constant, miserable thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

She might leave at the end of her residency. She deserves the entire world at her feet and you could never tie her down. 

“Ethan?”

“See you tonight.”

-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

III.

The real celebration occurred at Lahela's apartment later that evening. At least, that's what the surgeon deemed in a loud and almost incomprehensible cheer when they arrived. When his eyes landed on Ethan by Lilac’s side, however, a small moment of surprise pierced the silence, before he cheered louder than ever, proclaiming, “The Chief is here. Now, it's a real party!” 

Ethan had to admit that this cohort of young doctors knew how to celebrate in style. It didn’t take long before they broke into the impressive selection of drinks at the kitchen counter. The only regrettable aspect of the whole affair was the music. 

“Don Julio 1942, bitches,” Lahela proclaimed, brandishing two sleek bottles of tequila. He seemed to remember Ethan was in the room for he grimaced briefly. “Sorry, Dr. R!”

“The only thing you have to apologize for, Lahela, is taking so long to serve us our shots,” Ethan returned without missing a beat. 

“Amen to that,” Lilac responded enthusiastically from his side. 

After many rounds of high quality shots, their group grew in numbers as other hospital staff arrived and crammed the small apartment. Though no one excluded Ethan from their small cliques—quite the opposite, everyone was too eager to talk to the new Chief—he was happier observing from the sidelines. 

No, he was happier observing her, laughing and celebrating with her friends, from afar. It was like being a spectator to the most beautiful and moving art piece he had ever seen. She deserved all the revelry and acclaim pouring over her that night. This was an exciting chapter in her life that she had fought hard to earn. Ethan did not believe the sun itself could contain the pride blooming in his chest. 

After a couple hours, the late evening found Ethan at the terrace of Lahela’s apartment, a blanket of the deepest purple overhead. 

“Too important to hang out with us plebeians now that you’re Chief of Medicine?”

It was Lilac, standing at the sliding door, cheeks flushed and smile radiant in the moonlight. 

“That has literally never been true about any administrator,” he returned, though smiling just as brightly. He couldn’t contain the elation now that the floodgates had opened. 

Their bodies found each other, as they always would, joining in an embrace. Ethan kissed her forehead, the movement something close to second nature. “I’d argue your new job is more worthy of such praise,” he murmured. With a small nod toward the party, he added, “And theirs.”

Lilac pulled her chin back to survey him with pride. “Spoken like a true leader.”

A rumble of collective groans and cheers erupted from inside the apartment as a new song blurred through the speakers. 

“Bryce is on an eighties-only lockdown,” she explained with a laugh. “He does that when he’s had too much to drink.”

Ethan scrunched up his nose. “Then we got out just in time.” 

Lilac laughed, the sound a comfort to Ethan. They stood there in each other’s embrace, overlooking the twinkling lights of the city, reminiscent of another time long ago on a different balcony. Even then, his heart beat fiercely, desperately for her. Back then, he fought so courageously (and foolishly) against the three words that seemed the only truth in the universe. 

He didn’t have to deny himself of happiness anymore.

At long last, he didn’t have to fight them anymore.

“Lilac?”

“Hmm?”

She glanced up at him.

“I love you.”

 Her smile rivaled the stars above their heads.

“I love you, Ethan,” she replied without hesitation. 

He didn’t dare believe he could ever be happier. Then she kissed him, pouring her feelings into every movement of her lips, and he realized his happiness was boundless by her side. When they pulled apart, breathless and grinning like teenagers, Ethan let out a low chuckle.

“It’s an outrage to tell you that with Starship playing in the background.”

Lilac laughed, her eyes sparkling with unshed, happy tears. “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now is a fitting song if you think about it.”

Ethan made an exaggerated face of disgust that he was sure would make her laugh. Pure satisfaction coursed through him when it did.

 “Luckily for you, you can tell anytime you want now,” she told him.  

He kissed her again, spurred on by uncontained elation. 

“You can rest assured I will.”

------------

Author’s Note: I am not okay after that confession. I had to write something. Part I takes place right after her trial in book 1; Part II is right before her attack in book 2; Part III after that confession kljdlkfk

A few notes:

I still plan to write for Lilac and Ethan as time and creativity allows. If anyone still wishes to read them, then they’ll be here for you <3. If anyone still wants OPH content, you can count on me for that. I don’t plan on letting go of this story for a while. 

I’m going on a trip to the East Coast next week, including Boston (eeeek). I will leave a queue of random stuff but also two fics. One will be Chapter 1 of my OHTY Rewrite. The second will be a short ficlet I wrote a while ago

I am currently working on the next chapter of both Pictagram series. Hopefully I can post those when I come back!

Whether you leave the fandom or stick around (or something in between), I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported this crazy journey of mine for the past year. Writing has always been my passion, but I stopped doing it for years before Open Heart. It was this book, these characters, and YOU who motivated me to write my little heart out. You guys gave me my happiness back and for that I am extremely grateful.  

I love you guys! 

*Tagging in a reblog*

[killerskillercaptain]

Embarrassing moments w/ Levi Ackerman BOOK II

I only put one incident in this one because inspiration was running wild and things got out of hand, so enjoy !

You can read BOOK ONE here

word count : 1,9K

warnings : implicit seggsual themes, slight angst.

The client incident

Erwin had put you and Levi on a special mission; both of you received one letter from the commander urging you to go meet Balkus Adomas, a businessman whom Erwin was used to work with to get funds for the SC, and god knows the Survey Corps needed that financial support lately. With all the casualties, injured horses and used up equipment you lost in your encounter with the female titan, you could definitely use some help, any help actually.

The letter instructed Levi to tie up the negotiations, as Erwin had already sent a letter to Balkus, stating the nature of the visit; the letter also instructed Levi to take you with him to officialize everything on legal documents.

Levi sent one letter back to Erwin asking the commander about the nature of the business this man held. Three days later, the response consisted of a short sentence that wasn’t very helpful, and its vagueness didn’t make Levi happy; he hated being kept in the dark about the people he needed to work with.

The letter only said « « You’ll know when you get there »

The next morning, right after dawn, you and Levi were already on your horses, heading to the small town situated in the west, where the businessman was to be found. It was a good four hours ride, but you were accustomed by now to even longer distances.

Reaching your destination, Levi followed Erwin’s instructions, it didn’t take long for you two to find the location. Heading towards the main entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the frowning faces locals threw at you while passing you by. The place was an old, seemingly neglected property, it didn’t look like a business run by a rich businessman who could land money to the military, and you could sense that levi was thinking the same. You stood there studying the poorly maintained building for a moment until the main door suddenly flew open and a little round man, probably in his forties appeared with a dangling woman at his arm, the woman was laughing uncontrollably while planting kisses alongside the man’s neck, both of them completely ignoring the accusing stares being directed towards them.

Is this a tavern ?

Wait no.

You felt your legs tremble a little, and you suddenly felt embarrassed at the realization : it was a brothel. And the cheap kind by the looks of it.This Balkus Adomas runs a freaking brothel. Slightly alarmed, as this was completely out of your comfort zone, you glanced nervously at Levi who didn’t show any sign of tension. But little did you know, the short man was infuriated and boiling under the surface.

You on the other hand, were visibly stressed out. In a moment of hesitation you wanted to grab Levi’s hand like a child lost in an adult place but you managed to hold your composure, and decided to follow him by staying as close as possible to him. Levi headed rapidly to a broad bearded man, he looked like he was the receptionist or something of the sort, Levi asked if he could see Adomas.

" You should have been notified we were coming, we’re sent by Erwin Smith "

" Yes, yes this good old’ Erwin Smith, he said he’ll send someone ! "

The way the man said « good old’ Erwin Smith » made it look somewhat suspicious, and you wondered if the commander was fond of such places as it hardly seemed so to you.

" Well Lord Adomas is not here now, but you can wait for him, he comes early in the morning to do some accounting, as you see, the business is running wild lately "

" You can spend the night here if you want " he added.

You felt Levi tense up.

" Erwin will hear me about it, making us stay the night, not even being able to get an appointment correctly " you heard Levi mumble to himself between greeted teeth. You could clearly see now that this place is stressing him just as much.

" Don’t worry, Erwin Smith has always been good to us, intervening for us every time something threatened to close this place, and get Lord Adomas out of business, so we owe him big time "

You somehow got reassured that this was the nature of their connection to Erwin.

" I’m gonna give you a room to stay in for the night for free, it’s on the house "

He dangled a golden key in front of us, but when levi reached out to take it, the man retracted his hand behind the counter, a mischievous smile contorting his lips.

" Unless you want to spend the night as a customer Captain Levi ? "

Levi snatched the key from the man who now turned to you, completely ignoring the short captain.

" Hey miss, you’re not bad either, have you ever thought about leaving the army ? We could get you a job here, you’ll see, Lord Adomas treats his employees with extra care " he ended his speech with a nasty tone that had you both in such discomfort that you could almost feel Levi’s anger and you shivered at the way he said extra care. Dragging you by the collar of your military jacket, Levi headed with you towards the stairs, in search for the right bedroom while you followed him closely. As you were afraid of; the walls were incredibly thin in this place, and discernible sounds could be heard from each door. A series of thuds, creaks and lewd voices which you did your best to ignore, while you and the captain hurried to find the right door. Being here with Levi made this whole situation so much more uncomfortable, and right now, you cursed yourself for being the only person capable (and available) to do the paperwork, you hated that you were in charge, you hated that your signature was required, you-

" Here’s the shitty door "

You looked at the door, it was situated at a fair distance from the others, but didn’t look as damaged, maybe it didn’t get used a lot, or at least you hoped.

A demanding and urgent female voice erupted suddenly, close enough that both of you could hear it clearly. You tried to ignore how shaky your legs were now, you tried to focus on Levi opening the door but your eyes met a trembling Levi having difficulties opening the door, his hand too shaky to insert the key right, obviously he was just as startled as you were. When both of you finally heard a reassuring click, he slammed open the door with a "Tch"!

" Can’t believe this mess Erwin put us in, he’ll hear me about it ! "

You followed him inside. The room seemed fairly in order, didn’t seem to be too dusty, you sighed in relief, but your relief was short-lived, it sure wasn’t dusty but it did look completely unsanitary, no wonder this place gets threatened to be closed so often.

" Tch ! I’m taking fifty showers after this, and i’m gonna scrub my feet with Erwin’s- "

" Um Captain ? "

" WHAT ? " he asked harshly, getting you a bit startled by his tone.

Hey don’t lash out at me, it’s not my fault we’re in this mess.

" There’s only one bed "

" You can have it, i’m not sleeping in this filth "

" Neither do i , Captain " you said picking up a long strand of hair from the pillow and studying it before tossing it aside. The place was filthy.

But to both your consolation, there were two chairs made out of wicker that seemed not too risky to use.

You took the one on the left, Levi took the one on the right before looking at you.

" We’ll wait here until this Adomas piss of shit shows up so we can get it done with the paperwork and get out of this filthy hell " and those were the only words he spoke to you for the rest of night.

You were already feeling a bit sleepy, all the exhaustion caused by the trip creeping back to you. You had dozed off for what seemed like half an hour before you were awaken by new sounds rising abruptly from the next room. You jolted in your seat, the unsettling sounds of moans and boastful voices filling the room quickly, followed by a string of giggles, then another string of incomprehensible moany gibberish. You couldn’t make up a single word but you understood all too well the activities taking place in the other room. Still trying to compose yourself and get rid of the embarrassment sucking you in you right now, you suddenly remembered that you weren’t alone in the room, and turned quickly to look for the captain.

Levi was still sitting in his chair, you realized he had moved it away from you, almost placing himself at the other corner of the room, his fists tightening on his knees, he had the most irritated expression you’ve ever seen on his face, he looked like he was ready to snap a neck in half. Was it possible that he has been awake the entire time while you were sleeping ? Having to listen to the most indecent events going on next door ?

He was staring right in front of him, he looked as if he was trying to avert your gaze, afraid that a single stare shared between you two at this moment would aggravate the discomfort, and he was spot on.

Now the lewd voices were joined by the most obscene of sounds. You could feel your face, your hands and everything in between grow hot, you tried your best to keep a steady composure and not look at Levi who was incredibly silent at the other end of the room. Damn it, the smutty opera next door got you so alert you couldn’t even hope to sleep it off so you don’t have to endure this unbearable atmosphere.

You stayed like this until dawn. You and the captain, sitting stiff with both your hands glued to your thighs like two Egyptian statues while the auditory nuisance went on, all fucking night.

For a brief moment you heard Levi mutter something that you deciphered as « Erwin you piss of shit, you’re gonna pay for this»

--

You did get to Balkus Adomas the next day at the crack of dawn, he did accept to continue supporting the Scouts, you did go through the administration stuff you were dragged in here for. You even had Adomas make the same suggestion to you as the bearded receptionist; offering you to leave your uncomfortable scouting uniform for something else, vaunting about how much you can get paid in one night here, nothing like you meager salary at the Scouts for sure ! At one point you literally had to forcefully take off his hand that he sneakily placed on the small of your back. At the sight of it, Levi snatched the documents, handed a copy to Adomas and hurried you and himself out of the place.

Back to HQ, you were happy to reunite with your bed, ready to recover from last night. You shared your quarters with Petra, laying on your mattress, you filled her in about what happened to you with the captain as she bursted with laughter at every detail you gave her.

The next day, Levi was nowhere to be found as you went to his office as usual. You asked one of the soldiers where if he'd seen the captain and he just shrugged his shoulders, saying that Levi left a message for you as the soldier gave you a folded piece of paper.

« Going to see Erwin for a special meeting ».

[amyscascadingtabs]

only you have shown me how to love being alive

Jake almost reaches for a tie the first morning.

Post-Series Finale, following Jake's first day at his new job – a day complete with sand toys, library visits and a whole lot of reflection.

read on ao3 (including a very emotional end note from yours truly)

Jake almost reaches for a tie the first morning.

 There’s a fleeting sting of sorrow when he lowers his hand from the drawer where he keeps them, putting on a black t-shirt and throwing on yesterday’s hoodie instead. He grew fond of them in the end.

 It’s only fleeting, though, because the next second he hears his son’s familiar shrieks of laughter from the kitchen, and it’s impossible not to smile as he goes to join his family for breakfast.

It’s his first day as a stay-at-home dad, and it’s Amy’s first day as a freaking chief of police, and it’s the first day of a brand new life but it also feels just the same. He kisses Mac good morning first, because their son is one and a half years old now and old enough to understand and be offended if he isn’t everyone’s first priority in every situation always, and then manages to plant a sneaky kiss on Amy’s temple while Mac is busy inspecting his spoon.

“Good morning, chief Santiago.”

She grins and points him to the pot of fresh coffee on the kitchen counter. “Still not used to hearing that.”

“You better hurry up then, because people are going to be calling you that all day,” Jake says as he pours himself a cup in the Number One Dad-mug Charles gifted him the same day Jake and Amy made their pregnancy news official. “When do we leave?”

“In an hour.” Amy pulls at the sleeves of her dressing-gown. “I gotta say, it’s weird.”

“You’re going to ace it, babe.”

“I hope so,” she says, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. The slice of toast in front of her only has a tiny bite mark in it, and she's shaking the slightest bit when he holds her hand. Jake tries to channel all his conviction into the smile he gives her.

“I know so.”

.

Apparently having deemed the spoon untrustworthy, Mac decides to just scoop out the oatmeal from it by hand and eat it from his fingers. Amy’s arm twitches, almost reaching out to stop him, but she stops herself in the last second. They're trying to teach him how to eat on his own, and, well, at least some of the food is ending up where it's meant to be now. It's progress.

“I’ll clean him off when he's done,” Jake promises his wife as she takes a deep breath when Mac forgoes the spoon entirely for his next bite.

“Thanks, babe. I’m going to go get ready.” Amy takes another minimal bite of her toast before standing up and pushing in her chair. “I’ll drink some juice later,” she adds, seeing Jake's worried look.

. 

“It's just me and you today then, bud.” Jake ruffles Mac’s hair as Amy disappears into the bathroom. “It's going to be just you and me a lot of days for a while.”

Mac babbles something incomprehensible in return and stretches out his oatmeal-sticky hand to Jake. Jake shakes it, smiling as it makes his son laugh that completely unrestrained laughter he's never going to get enough of.

“You’re right. It's going to be great.”

.

~

. 

Amy's quiet for the whole ride to One Police Plaza, staring out the window while picking at her lip. Jake doesn't try to make her talk, because it seems like she needs this time, but he keeps glancing over at her. The new uniform is freshly pressed and steamed, her hair in a neat ponytail, and it reminds him of her first day as a sergeant only four years ago. It’s crazy how much their world has changed since then, from the wedding rings on their fingers to the toddler babbling in his car seat in the back, when it also feels just like yesterday.

. 

He’s so proud of her. He wants her to know that, and he knows that she knows, because he's told her so many times and probably will for the rest of his life.

.

Even the garage at One Police Plaza is intimidating, and Amy squeezes his hand when they park.

“It's going to be weird not having you with me.”

“Ames, come on. We both know you've never actually needed me for these things.”

Amy looks down at her rings – she's wearing both of them today. “Yeah. But I’m going to miss knowing you're only a floor away. It was comforting.”

“I’ll be just a text away if you need me,” he says, “And so will Mac. Isn't that right, Macadocious? Are we gonna be texting mama all day?”

“Mama!”

“See? He agrees.” Jake takes off his seatbelt and reaches around to tickle Mac’s cheeks, making him laugh. “And who's gonna totally smash it at their extremely important job today, because they're the greatest at pretty much everything they do and so ready for this?”

Their son looks confounded, but then he shines up. “Mac!”

“Anyone else?” Jake asks as Amy folds over double with laughter.”Maybe, I don't know, also mama?”

“Mac!”

“Well,” Jake sighs, “I guess the message of self-love is getting through. But hey, Ames – I meant that. Holt wouldn't have picked you for this if he didn't trust that you could do it. You're not actually going to question Holt’s judgment, are you?”

He expects that to make her laugh, but instead, her eyes go soft, a tear rolling down her cheek as she looks at him. “I love you.”

“We love you too, babe.”

She leans forward to kiss him. Without thinking, he kisses her back, trying to pour every bit of how proud he is into it.

“No!” The voice of their own angry mini-dictator breaks them apart after only a few seconds. “Mac!”

“This kid really doesn't know how he got here, does he?” Jake grumbles, and Amy grins as she gets out of her seat.

“No, and he's never finding out either. You’re right, baby, I need to say goodbye to you first.”

. 

Amy lets Mac out of his car seat so she can hold him in her arms, standing there with her eyes closed and slightly swaying as Mac clings on to her so tight. For the first time that day, she looks fully at peace.

“Get in here too, Jake,” she whispers when she notices him staring, and that pulls him out of his daydreaming to join the family hug.

.

Mac holds his hand as they watch Amy walk off to the elevator. She waves to them before getting in, and they both wave back.

“Well,” Jake says as they watch the doors slide to a close. “What do you say we start our new job with a trip to the park, buddy?”

“Swings!”

“Swings it is.”

. 

~

.

There are only a few other families outside in the park this early on a grey Monday, and Mac cheers and tries to run for the free swings the moment he sees them. Jake smiles to himself as he chases after. It might be a small thing, and it’s not something he knows if Mac will even remember, but he’s happy that his son will get to have memories of going to the park without having to wait in line for a free swing forever. He's even happier he can be there to make them with him.

.

When he first got suspended back in the fall, he’d struggled to figure out how to best fill his days with Mac. Some days, he’d planned too many things in one day and ended up sharing tears with his son in an IKEA out of sheer overwhelmedness. Other days, the plans hadn't been nearly enough and they'd both been bored out of their minds by mid-day. It had taken him some time to find the perfect structure; one activity before lunch, one after. A park visit and a grocery run. Storytime at the local bookshop and a visit to the cozy thrift store with a surprisingly good play area for kids. Not too big ones, not on their own, nothing crazy. Always evenings at home. He's planning to go with the same kind of routine now, mixing in some parent and toddler-classes to make sure Mac’s still getting that socialization. He's got a plan. It’s going to be good.

.

Last night, Amy had asked him a final time if he was sure he’d be happy like this, if he was certain they shouldn't try to find a different solution, and he’d promised her he absolutely was. He still is, and he knows he's made the right decision for their family, but he’d be lying if he said it doesn't feel a little daunting, too. He wants to be at home with Mac, and he's beyond ecstatic over all the time they're going to get to spend together now, but it's a lot to wrap his head around the fact that they’ll probably be doing this for years. It's not just five months anymore – it's something permanent. A new normal, not an exemption from it.

.

When Jake's arms are getting sore from pushing the swing – anyone who claims that he doesn't work out is lying – Mac starts pointing to the sandbox, and Jake's all too happy to change activities until he realizes they don't have sand toys. Those are in the other car, and there's not as much as a lone plastic bucket lying around as far as Jake can see. What he can see is a mom and a toddler in matching short ginger hairstyles and jean jackets, the toddler digging in the sand with a pink toy spade and a rake, and he decides to push through the awkwardness.

“Hey, have you got any more of those I could borrow?” He asks the mom, who smiles and brings out an identical yellow set from a plastic bag. “Thanks. I keep forgetting to bring them.”

“I feel you,” she says. “It took me a long time to get into the routine of it.”

“Yeah.” Jake blushes as he sits down on the edge of the sandbox, watching as Mac gets right to work with digging a hole. “It's kind of my first day doing this.”

“It's your first day staying at home with him?”

“Not ever,” Jake’s quick to defend himself. “I’ve had time off with him before. But now I’m doing it full time, indefinitely. It's my first day of that. So yes and no? It's my first day, but not my first-first? Like I’m not one of those dads who’s never spent time with their kid before, but I guess it's still new in a way. Properly being a stay-at-home-parent, I mean.”

Jean jacket mom only laughs at his rambling and reaches out her hand. “I’m Jess.” She points to her daughter. “This is Dot. Dorothy, but we just say Dot.”

“Jake.” He shakes her hand. “And that's Mac.”

“Mac!”

“Who’s learned how to say his name now.”

“Cute,” says Jess, smiling at Mac too. “Welcome to the first day of the job then, Jake.”

“Thanks.” Jake grins. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll remember the sand toys.”

.

“Can I ask what prompted it?” Jess says after a while, after they’ve resolved a minor crisis when Dot decided she wanted Mac’s yellow spade. It took some convincing, but now Mac is playing with the pink one, and Jake thinks it looks like they might even be playing together. They’re at least sitting next to each other and no one is screaming, which Jake assumes is pretty good for two one-year-olds.

“Prompted what?”

“You staying home with him. It sucks that it is that way, but I don’t usually see a lot of stay-at-home-dads out here. Did you switch off with your wife?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “She was on maternity leave when he was tiny, but we weren’t stay-at-home-parents. But she started a new job today, and it’s this huge opportunity, and I didn’t want her to have to do it halfway. It was just hard to get it to work out with me working too, and us still being present parents, so… I left.”

“What does she do?”

“Chief of police,” he says, feeling warm with pride. “She’s going to help them implement a new reform program.”

Jess nods slowly. “That’s a big thing.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s her.”

“Well, I think it’s really cool that you’re doing that for her.”

Jake looks at Mac, who would be getting a lot further with the hole he’s digging if he didn’t keep emptying the sand back in the exact same place. Somehow the complete lack of progress doesn’t seem to be bothering him. “It’s for me too. And him, of course, but I wanted to do it.”

“It can be a pretty great job,” Jess says, brushing off some sand that’s gotten in Dot’s hair. “Well, we’re off to lunch with mom soon, so I think we have to go. It was nice to meet you though, Jake and Mac.”

“Wait, do you want to exchange numbers or something?” Jake hurries to point to the two toddlers before anything comes off the wrong way. He can see the rainbow pin on Jess’ jacket, though. “Mac could use some stay-at-home-friends.”

“Mac or you?”

Jake just grimaces in reply.

.

~

.

They do lunch at home, during which Amy facetimes them for a bit and Mac gets so excited that he spills pasta with tomato sauce all over himself. Lunch has to be followed by another quick bath before he goes down for his afternoon nap, while Jake cleans up the kitchen and tries to catch up with Amy over text and also eat his own lunch. She’s doing good, she says, she misses them, and she’s going to try to be home early if Holt lets her. Jake sends her a couple of pictures of Mac from the park, and she sends back a picture of her desk where she's put a framed family selfie of the three of them. It's one of Jake's favorites, with Mac in the middle sticking his tongue out and them both laughing at him. It feels strange not to be there and see that picture in person while hanging out at her desk during a free moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. It just feels different.

.

Mac wakes up crying the moment Jake has made himself comfortable on the couch with his Switch in the hopes that he might be able to get some Animal Crossing in. After establishing that his son has approximately zero interest in going back to sleep, Jake decides to take him to the library for the afternoon’s activity.

 .

It’s unusually quiet in the kids’ section, or maybe it’s just because there are no classes running today, but Mac seems to love having most of the space for himself. Jake plays store with him for a while, although Mac’s understanding of the concept seems limited considering he keeps taking back all the toy food no matter how much fake money Jake gives him, and then he lets him take his time staring at all the murals and interactive toys in the library’s youth wing. When he eventually starts to tire, they pick out a few books and curl up in one of the couches together. Jake reads a book about an imaginative fox to him until he can feel Mac’s head getting heavy on his shoulder, realizing that his son is fast asleep. He sits there with him for a while longer, letting Mac continue the nap he probably didn’t finish earlier. It’s not like they’re in a rush.

.

When it doesn’t seem like Mac’s going to wake up any time soon, Jake carefully moves him to the stroller and heads towards the other wing. He’s got time now, after all. A couple of the mystery novels displayed as popular loans are about detectives, and Jake smiles as he reads a paragraph where one character describes how he’d always dreamed of becoming a cop. It feels familiar, but it’s like he can tell how much this book is going to glorify police work before he’s read more than a page. He puts it back on the shelf and grabs one about a tough female PI instead. If it’s any good, he could recommend it to Rosa.

.

Mac wakes up around the same time Jake's headache reminds him he's not had coffee since early this morning, so they find a nearby coffee shop for an afternoon snack. The display is filled with cakes and cookies of all different shapes and kinds, making Jake's mouth water, and he’s grateful Mac’s not old enough to understand how underwhelming his fruit-and-nut bar is in comparison. The only thing he's disappointed in seems to be the toddler chair, because he squirms and complains until Jake lets him sit on the couch instead. Mac can just about reach to rest his elbows on the table as he tries to drink his juice box at the same time, his little fleece hoodie bundling up around his shoulders and almost covering his face, but he looks so proud of himself. Jake thinks about bringing him here after school when he gets older. One day Mac’s going to fit perfectly on that couch and lean his arms on the table like he's never done anything else in his life, and it's probably going to be sooner than Jake wants to think about. It brings him comfort to know for a fact that at least, he'll be there to see it. Maybe these coffee dates will become a father-son-tradition between them, like Sal’s Pizza was for Jake and Roger once. They have so many chances to make those now.

 .

~

 .

He's got dinner in the oven by the time it hits him that he’s barely thought about his old job all day. The name plaque from his desk is still laying on top of the pile of mail he meant to go through, and he lets his index finger trace the lines of the engraved Det. before putting it back down. It's weird to think that he's not going to be presenting himself with that title for a long time; maybe not ever again. There was a time when it was the greatest pride of his life and central focus of his identity, and now it's only three letters on a plaque that are no longer true. He wonders at what point it will start to feel real. He thinks he’ll miss it more that day, but he knows he’s made the right choice, and that knowledge makes it easier to push away the slight panic he feels whenever he thinks of the permanence of it. For now, he just slides the form asking them to sign up for the next period of baby gymnastics on top of the nameplate. He really needs to remember to change their slot from Saturdays to a weekday.

 .

Amy doesn’t get home until Mac has finished his dinner, and Jake can tell from the wistfulness in her eyes that she’s sad over it.

“I’m not too late, right?”

“Not at all,” Jake assures her as Mac begins to call out mama, mama, mama, trying so hard to climb out of the chair that Jake has to lift him out before any accidents can happen. “You’re just in time for today’s bath number three.”

. 

Jake lets Amy put Mac to bed on her own. It’s part of the deal they’ve made for these new days, and as jealous as he is of the fact that she gets to be the one to dress a squeaky clean baby in pink zip-up pajamas with dinosaurs and snuggle him as he sucks on a pacifier while they read a story in the nursing chair now turned story chair, he knows how much she’s missed him and how important it is to her to still be as an equal parent as possible. She’s going to get Mac up in the mornings and take over when she comes home, and they’re still going to have weekends together, and maybe it won’t be fifty-fifty, but they’re both going to be there for him. That’s what’s important, and Jake feels good about it. Plus, he’s already gotten to put Mac down for a nap twice today, so he’s not as jealous as he could have been. He grabs a beer from the fridge instead – the first day of their new jobs deserves to be celebrated – and pours a glass of wine for Amy, and then he grabs the book he borrowed from the library earlier and steals Amy’s favorite blanket while he waits for her on the couch.

 .

“Well, I sure don’t hate this sight,” Amy says as she comes out from Mac’s nursery, taking the other side of the couch. She pulls her legs up, resting her elbows on her knees and chin in her hands as she looks at him with a pleased smirk he recognizes well. If she’d been a cat, Jake imagines she’d be purring right now. “Reading, huh?”

“Yeah, I told you we went to the library.” Jake digs in his pocket and pulls out an old receipt only because Amy would probably kill him if he dog-eared a library book. “I figured I might have time to fill.”

“I thought the same thing during my maternity leave,” Amy says, shaking her head. “I think I finished two physical books in five months, plus a couple of audiobooks when I was nursing. And that was during the time Mac stayed where you put him, so don't have too high expectations of yourself.”

“Fine.” Jake grimaces. “But hey, we can talk about my reading later –”

“Oh, we definitely will.”

“ – How was your first day? I wanna hear everything.”

 .

Amy launches into an explanation of all the challenges that lay ahead with implementing the program, how there’s lots of positive feedback but a lot of skepticism too, how Holt’s told her the next few months are going to be a challenge, but hopefully a rewarding one.

“It’s going to be intense,” she says finally, taking a big sip from her glass of wine before putting it down again. “But I’m proud of what we’re doing, and I know it’s the right thing. It’s going to be worth it.”

“I’m proud of you,” he reminds her again, taking her left hand in both of his and squeezing it. “If anyone can do it, Ames, it’s you.”

She absolutely shines at the praise this time. It’s oceans from the tense smiles of this morning, and Jake is relieved.

“Holt did ask about you, actually,” she adds, and Jake raises an eyebrow. “He wanted to know if you had activated that Rosetta Stone subscription yet.”

“Ew. No.” Jake fakes a shudder. “Seriously, that man does not know how to give gifts.”

“You say that now, but I know one evening I’m going to come home and find you in front of the computer, completely butchering the pronunciation of all the fruits and vegetables in Spanish.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but he knows she’s right. Amy just giggles, leaning her head to the side.

“Yeah. But how was your first day at your new job? I wanna hear everything, too.”

“Oh, not bad. Though I will say my new boss is really strong-willed, and he could do with some improvement when it comes to listening to what his subordinates have to say, if you know what I mean? He also did make me carry him a lot, and I had to bathe him twice, so I don’t know. Do you think that’s normal?”

“I think it’s okay if your boss is one and a half and related to you, yes.”

“Oh, that’s such a relief, ‘cause I really didn’t want to make it awkward on the first day, and I’m not even sure who HR is yet, and it’d just become this whole thing that I wanted to avoid.”

Amy laughs so hard she has to protect her mouth with her hand as she tries not to spit out the wine at the same time. It’s infectious, and it makes him grin, too.

“Fine. It was really, really great.”

“I’m glad,” she says, still smiling with tears in her eyes from the laughter attack. “And I’m proud of you too. You made a really big choice.”

“I know.” Jake looks at their countertop, where can still see his old nameplate sticking out from the mail pile. “I guess it is kind of weird thinking about how I’m just not a cop anymore? All the other times I’ve been gone, I’ve known it was temporary, but now it’s just… not something I am anymore.”

“Do you think you’ll miss it?” Amy asks, spinning the wine glass slowly in her hand. “It’s okay, if you do.”

 .

For a moment, Jake allows himself to think these thoughts he’s still trying to push back – never working another case with Charles, never entering the bullpen after a big win again, never starting another morning in the briefing room trying to pull pranks on Holt.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I probably will. Maybe a lot some days. It’s been one of the greatest things in my life. But this, being with Mac all day – that’s awesome too. Today was great, and there are probably so many more incredible days to come with him that I have no idea about yet. Like he’s tiny now, but I know when he gets bigger it’s going to be even cooler. And just think of how much help I can be if we have another kid.”

Amy coughs, almost choking on her sip of wine for the second time. “Excuse me?”

“I said if!”

Amy just shakes her head, but Jake thinks he can see the corners of her mouth twitching. “Maybe when I’ve settled into this new job, we can come back to it. You're right,” she says, leaning on his shoulder. “It would make it a lot easier.”

 .

Jake thinks of the utter fascination in Mac’s face when they’d all met Tony’s youngest baby last week, and tries to imagine another mini-Amy-lookalike sleeping in his arms. He’d been so scared to have just one kid; now, when he knows they’ll have time, he can't let go of the thought of another.

“Love that. But even if we don’t,” he says with a squeeze of her hand, “I know this was the best decision. I’m proud of what I did, but I’m proud of this too. And just because I’m at home with him now, it doesn’t mean I can’t ever do something similar again one day. It’ll still be out there if I ever want to go back. Just not right now. And I think I’m okay with it.” He swallows. “I know I’m okay with it.”

Amy’s lips brush lightly against his neck, up his throat, his jawline. “I love you,” she whispers, her breath tickling his ear. ”So, so, much.”

“I love you, too.” He reaches for a proper kiss, letting out a little hum of pleasure when she puts down the wine glass so she can kiss him properly, both her hands cupping his face and pulling him closer.

. 

“Now,” she says when they eventually pull apart, her fingers already stroking along his sides where the t-shirt has slid up and her messy bun earning its name, “should we talk about your reading again?”

“You really are so consistent.”

 .

It may be a new life, Jake thinks as they make out on the couch for a while longer after that just because, but if he gets to end his days like this, it's not going to be hard to get used to it.

 .

And tomorrow, he's even going to remember the sand toys.

 ~

until it's time to see the light, I'll make my own with you each night

I'll kidnap all the stars and I will keep them in your eyes

I'll wrap them up in velvet twine, and hang them from a fishing line

so I can see them anytime I like

darling, don't you weep

there's a place for me

somewhere we can sleep, I'll see you in your dreams

darling, don't you cry

head fast toward the light

foolish men have tried

but only you have shown me how to love being alive

~ darling, by halsey

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

~

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

~

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

[elliehase-blog]

It’s typical for me to set up a story or drabbles around my drawings, but I’m not always confident enough to share them with you due to my lack of knowledge in the English grammar.  This is a foreign language for me, therefore I still make a lot of mistakes and not noticing them.

For this redrawing of Crawly I wrote a little prelude for my story “Don’t Stop Me Now” on AO3. I have finished two new chapters already, but unfortunately my friend (who has corrected my stories in the past) is too busy with her work. If there’s anyone out there, who enjoys to proofread stories, please contact me! 

Prelude

It was lo-... something at first sight.

The angel of the Eastern Gate stood atop Eden’s outer wall, facing the deserted land with a concerned glance. His wavy fair hair reflected the setting sun, some soft rays gently embraced his contours. Gray clouds were piling over the garden. With his white robe and the dark atmosphere forming around him, he looked bright and shining like a star in the night sky.

He was the most fascinating thing Crawly had ever seen.

And Crawly had seen a lot of things in his immortal existence. In the old days he had been an angel himself, a builder of blazing stars and astonishing constellations. But none of his creations ever radiated in such a wonderful warm glow, giving him satisfaction and ease at once. There was something magical about the other man, which is why Crawly couldn't avert his gaze.

Strictly speaking, Crawly didn’t cross a line here. He wasn’t in close contact with the angel, staying at the apple tree most of the time, fulfilling his demonic duty. No one ever said he couldn’t sneak away occasionally and admire his new encounter from afar, though. Nothing wrong in it. At least until it became his favourite occupation of the day.

So the serpent observed the beautiful chubby angel quite a while. From a safe distance, of course. As a demon he had straight orders from Hell to cast some trouble in the Garden of Eden. It was highly inappropriate to reach out to the opposition by whatever means, he guessed, or even conveying interest in an angel in the first place. Probably it was forbidden as well. Something demons ought not to do.

He did anyway.

 Crawly watched the serene beauty and listened carefully to every word that emerged these rosy lips, straining to find out more about the angelic guard, trying to get the whole picture. Every piece of the puzzle dragged him closer each day. He liked the way the blond angel yielded his flaming sword when he was practicing some quite impressive combat moves. He liked the way how politely the other man was talking to God’s newest creations (especially the animals), just like he really cared. And he absolutely adored the way the angel’s name rolled off his tongue. Aziraphale... The demon whispered it a couple of times just to listen to the melodic sound.

After seven days Crawly came to the conclusion, that the angel of the Eastern Gate wasn't a threat or dangerous at all, only confirming his initial impression. In fact, there was something tragically lonesome about him. It was almost like looking into a mirror, finding someone as isolated as yourself. No other angel came to talk to him, even God never answered his prayers. That situation felt strangely familiar. Crawly wanted to get closer to the other man straightway, literally craved for a conversation with every fibre of his body. If there was the slightest chance, that the blond angel could truly understand how he feels, that they both are broken in some way, maybe they could feel wholesome again by being together.

They barely knew each other, but as they started talking, it felt like they had known each other for far longer than just a minute. Aziraphale treated him as equal, even though Crawly had revealed his black wings, openly showing his demonic nature. There was no loathing, no rolling eyes, no distrust in the angel’s voice. It was ... odd. Something, Crawly had never experienced before.

So Crawly had stood frozen in indecision for what seemed like forever, thinking of the right way to approach, the right words to say. A feeling of nervousness overwhelmed him. The first impression counted, after all.

And the foremost thing that popped into his mind was, “That one went down like a lead balloon.”

Well. Could have been worse, right?

From up close he could study the other man’s face even better. His far too cute button nose and his ridiculously bright blue eyes, just to name but a few. It completely captured the demon. The way Aziraphale smiled, chuckled in a warm tone as Crawly mentioned their possible misstep, finally tipped him over the edge. It seized his chest with something deeper than admiration.

When raindrops started to pour at the very first time on earth, the demon gazed insultingly upon the sky. It felt cold and wet and absolutely annoying on his skin. The snake-like part inside of him immediately wanted to curl away and hide somewhere safe and warm. The other part clearly wanted to stay right next to Aziraphale, cautiously coming closer. Without a second thought or expecting any kind of counter-performance, the blond man stretched his impressive white wing to shield Crawly.

And that was when the demon had fallen for the angel completely.

Crawly knew on the spur of the moment that he had met the kindest person in his godforsaken life. Cheesy but true. He remembered clearly what Heaven was like. Not as nice as everyone thought it would be, though. On the one hand, he was bored stiff all the time. No temptations or decent drinks, for instance. But worst of all were the conceited archangels and their stupid duties and expectations they placed on every low-ranking angel.

Curiosity and self-determination were two words that simply didn’t appear in Heaven’s vocabulary. As well as ‘Thank you for your hard work’ or ‘We really appreciated that you’ve done this whole crap without questioning it in the first place’ or just a simple ‘Your last nebula was mind-blowing, you incredibly talented angel’.

It’s not that Crawly was demanding or so. Really! But for some kind words you’d wait in vain.

To be fair and square, in Hell they won’t offer you cookies either (Crawly really tried to convince his fellow demons to put more effort into the right acquisition, but incomprehensibly it never fell on understanding ears). Demons don’t trust each other, they don’t even have a single feeling for one another except suspicion. You certainly don’t make friends in Hell. It is a place full of loneliness.

Aziraphale was the first person who ever cared about Crawly at all, noticing things no one noticed, really looking at him and not at the demonic shell. A pure angel as people believe angels should be, with kind and untainted affection. And that was truly something remarkable, because after six thousand years with a troublemaker like him, a demon, his hereditary enemy, Aziraphale never stopped caring.

Read the rest of the chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945739

[tiptapricot]

Give Me Markael Headcanons 🤲

Hee hee hee yessir >:-) (though it doesn’t have to be, this is generally set in a the boys live post movie setting, or at the very least an amiable post vampire reveal AU)

Things start, unsurprisingly, because Marko is bored

He’s craving someone to pick on and fuck with, and Michael presents the perfect opportunity to do so

Marko comments on his looks, his hair, teases him about his music and fashion tastes, even jumps on his back to mess up his hair or interrupt a conversation, and Michael responds with gruff annoyance or short comebacks, or a harsh shove away

It’s a push and pull kind of dynamic (sometimes literally), ranging from playful to genuinely rude, and it stays the status quo for several months

(Implied sexual content under cut)

Marko even goes after Michael without the boys around, pops up at his house and follows him around the boardwalk to get an early jump on that night’s round of torment

It’s absolutely excessive, and would drive anyone up the wall, but the strange thing is that after awhile, Michael starts reacting less and less, until he’s just absentmindedly nodding along while he does his own thing. He stops being bothered to a weird degree, almost like no one’s there, and that frustrates Marko

Because if he can’t get a rise out of Michael, what’s the point? Where’s the fun in it?

Eventually he gets so worked up that he bursts

“What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just ignore me, Mikey. You can’t pretend I’m not talking, say something!”

And infuriatingly, incomprehensibly, Michael still maintains his cool. He quirks an eyebrow, shrugs, and says he doesn’t see what the big deal is. “I just stopped caring. I mean you’re not really an asshole,” he reasons, “so why should I be mad?”

And that… Marko doesn’t know how to respond to that. Because… what? He is an asshole. He definitely is. Right? He hasn’t been nice to Michael by any stretch of the imagination, so what the hell is he talking about?

When Marko fails to respond, Michael puts his hands in his pockets and goes to do his own thing on the boardwalk, leaving Marko behind thoroughly confused and even more frustrated than before

No one has ever responded to him like that. No one has just decided… not to go along with his game of cat and mouse, just brushed him off like it was the obvious choice, and he doesn’t know… why. It doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t know why it’s so offputting

He’s quieter around Michael after that. He still seeks him out and follows him around, but instead of making the usual jabs he just… examines him

They sit on the beach together, and walk around town, and bum around in Michael’s front yard, and talk. Well, Michael’s really the only one that talks. Marko asks the questions, and then trails after him like a curious cat, listening to the answers

At first he’s trying to figure out the why from before, harder and more quizzical, but somewhere along the way that goal goes out of focus. The questions become less about solving something and more about hearing about Michael’s life, about hearing his voice, about seeing him every night

Eventually Marko starts tentatively asking things about his family, his parents, and there’s always this feeling of unfinished-ness hanging between them afterwards, this knowledge that Marko wants to say something too, but just never does. He listens instead, keeps his mouth shut, and listens

And that should be fine, he should be fine with that. Marko tells himself so, over and over. He chews on the loose threads of his glove and listens, focuses on the way Michael smiles when he talks about Sam or Lucy, or on how his voice deepens to something hard and unsteady when he talks about his dad. He tries to focus on Michael, even as something creeps under his skin, wriggles into his fingers and his legs, tense and expectant, edging on panic

This isn’t going to last, he realizes. It can’t. It’s been too long, too easy, that’s not how things work. Something is going to go wrong soon, Michael will get bored or angry or something

Marko stops being able to focus on what Michael says when they meet, too busy listening for a change in tone or topic, for a sign that the gentleness has run out

It’s going to. It has to. Gentleness never lasts for Marko

One night Michael pauses mid sentence and Marko stiffens. “Hey, do you—” he begins, and there, that’s it

Marko snaps into action, adrenaline spiking, and in the next second Michael’s lips are smashed against his own

There’s a moment where they stay suspended, where neither of them move and Marko knows his heart would stop if it was still beating, but then Michael melts into him with this sweet little sound and there are hands working under his jacket and—yes this is much more familiar, this is easy, Marko doesn’t have to think about this

He slips out of Michael’s room before sunrise, something heavy in the pit of his stomach that he tries desperately to ignore

They go on like that for awhile, no more talking, just touching, until one night Michael stops Marko before they can start and doesn’t let him continue

“Hey… what’s going on with you,” he asks, and there’s that gentleness again, that strange strange gentleness that Marko knows is earnest because that’s how Michael is. But why now why… here? Is this not good enough either?

If so what does Michael want?? He ignored Marko’s jabs and insults, he hung around with him seemingly without expecting anything in return for months, and now he’s not satisfied with something physical either. And Marko is dumbfounded

He leaves again, wordlessly, and tries to mull things over on his own, but he’s right back to the why, and he still can’t figure that out. It makes no sense

The others can see he’s worked up, Dwayne and David keep exchanging those glances, and Paul tries to reach out but Marko’s to snippy and tired to explain

That night he confronts Michael again, this time about all of… whatever they have right now, about what he wants, and it ends up just being a long, long, talk

Michael doesn’t want anything, as it turns out. Well, he wants Marko, but he doesn’t want him to be anything. He just likes him. Likes having him around, likes doing things with him

It’s a strange thing to hear

By the time they’re done, by the time they’ve talked through more than Marko thinks they have in the last year, the horizon is tinged red and there’s a new hole in the edge of his glove

Michael gets him too much, he thinks. They both have shitty parental experience, they both crave people and contact and belonging, sometimes to a destructive degree, and they’re both much too connected to their human lives to fully relate to any of the boys

That’s one of the bigger things. Even though Paul has technically been a vampire for less time than Marko, he still doesn’t have the same ties to his human life, doesn’t have the same baggage Marko does

With Michael Marko can actually talk about it. He gets it, he gets the grey areas and the gives and takes and the blurred lines, he gets that even if things sucked there’s still that want to go back to it, a need to keep it with you

Marko hasn’t had that in so long

It’s those spaces that are filled with each other that make their relationship, though, and that’s mutual. Michael grounds Marko, makes him slow down, remember, process, yes, but in return, Marko helps Michael let go

He drags him into races along the highway, teases him and flirts with him, kisses him in public and stands too close and casually touches him in ways that make him blush and sputter

Marko gives him an escape, gives him a place where he can forget his responsibilities for awhile and just have fun

They both provide balance for the other. Michael brings Marko back to himself, reminds him he’s not just Marko the vampire, that life isn’t all about adrenaline and parties, and Marko gets Michael out of his own head, reminds him he doesn’t always have to be perfect and responsible, doesn’t always have to be the big brother or the reliable son

There’s a giddiness to their relationship, innocent and recklessly cynical at the same time

Marko’s torment morphs into a love language, they get drunk and dress up in stolen clothes, break windows and lay on the beach with their feet in the water, howl on the highway and whisper against each other’s throats, excited for every moment no matter how fast or slow

That duality permeates every part of their relationship, it’s excitement spilling into closeness, sparks melting seamlessly back into embers, a mix of dark oranges and blues and reds

It’s a taste of newness that still feels familiar, and it’s exhilarating in its rightness, in it’s closeness, in its awkwardness, and in its gentleness

And, against all odds, it lasts this time

Headcanons masterpost

[itsuki-minamy]

MEMORY STORIES: IN THE EARLY DAYS

* Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"What are you doing now? It seems like you're working alone with a man and I don't understand why, are you okay?"

The mother's voice on the phone sounded slightly confused and concerned.

"I'm fine."

Awashima thought. A terrorist bomb exploded on a plane and she was suddenly saved by a man who woke up as "King". She was recruited by that man and they went to an abandoned facility. She then worked sleeplessly to restore the organization called "Scepter 4".

Yes.

She was not in a decent situation. At least until college, it was definitely not the path a future executive should take, to whom a well-known large company will promise hospitality.

"Hey, mom. I'm fine."

Brilliantly and categorically she said that.

"Then I will contact you again."

She forcibly hung up the call. In the end, the mother said something, but she couldn't hear it. Then she sighed.

Then, at that moment, there was a thumping sound.

"Yes, what is it, Munakata-san?"

Awashima replied, feeling the bad dig that she still didn't know what to call the other party. Later…

"Excuse me, Awashima-kun."

The door opened and Reisi Munakata appeared, whom her mother called "a man who does not understand the theory."

"I think I can meet with someone who has the right to make decisions in the Ministry of Finance. Can you accompany me because I am going to explain the budget proposal I made two days ago?"

Awashima tightened her expression.

"Yes, immediately."

She then she picked up the computer from her desk and stood up. She hadn't slept for about two days, but she didn't feel tired.

Reisi Munakata was a "King", she became a member of the clan. It was difficult to explain it to the mother logically, but the intuition in her heart recognized it as a remedy. Therefore, although she acted alongside Munakata, the common sense that she had accumulated over the years remained unclear. She couldn't decide her posture when she came into contact with Munakata, and she still felt uncomfortable.

Awashima was now staying in a room in a building that was once used as a men's dormitory for "Scepter 4", and she was working with Reisi Munakata on a daily basis to lay the groundwork for the reconstruction of "Scepter 4".

Munakata took three steps.

First, reposition "Scepter 4" as a public institution in the administration.

Next, designate the members who will be responsible for the activities of "Scepter 4" as much as necessary.

Finally, reboot the new "Scepter 4" as a carrier of order.

He was still in the first stage now. Therefore, Munakata and Awashima read the materials left at the barracks, held various negotiations on government offices, and met with 0B from the old "Scepter 4" to hear opinions for the reconstruction.

Anyway, she was so busy that her eyes actually fell on him. However, at first, her sense of satisfaction gradually increased as she became able to comprehend the whole picture imagined by Reisi Munakata, which was incomprehensible and unclear.

And one day, Awashima had the opportunity to capture a Strain through a truly accidental encounter. She witnessed a drunken Strain in the city center repeatedly damaging property, activating and suppressing his abilities. When she thought about it later, the power of the other party was meager, and it was not a very dangerous trap, but it was a deadly feeling for Awashima, who had lived as an ordinary woman until then.

Awashima then contacted Munakata about treating that drunk Strain.

At this point, she thought it appropriate to go to the nearest police station, but Munakata, on the other end of the line, said something unexpected.

"Awashima-kun. Please take him carefully to the barracks and put him in the detention room. This is the first client to commemorate."

Awashima was confused for a moment, but then she said...

"Maybe this is..."

"Yes."

Munakata was in an unusually good mood.

"Their approval has been granted and the relevant ministries and agencies have been coordinated. Starting today, "Scepter 4" will be officially rebooted. The official name of the organization is the "Fourth Branch of the Family Registry Division", as requested."

"……!"

Awashima also involuntarily held her mouth with her hand.

The joy of the hardships of the past months had warmed her body.

"Thank you for your hard work, Awashima-kun."

"No, Munakata-san."

After saying it, Awashima received a revelation.

"Well, if it is to be officially activated as an organization, can I call Munakata-san in the future, Captain?"

After keeping Munakata on the phone for a bit...

"Of course. Captain. Sounds great."

There was a sign of laughter. Awashima also smiled in relief.

It was the moment when several things began to fall into place.

++++++++++

"But the Lieutenant is tough too."

Hidaka said that after doubting the content of the energy drink with a straw. The color of exhaustion also showed on his young face.

Chasing a guilty Strain, he had already stayed up all night for about two days. Awashima crossed her arms in a room of the building on the other side, and while he was still...

"Well, about this. I was busier than now when I launched "Scepter 4" with the Captain."

"Really?"

Hidaka rolled his round eyes.

"Was it worse than now?"

Awashima laughed.

"Yes. At the time, there was a labor shortage. But sometimes I miss those situations like the eve of that school festival. I will never forget those days. Oh…"

Tension raced through Awashima's body.

"It seems there was a movement."

When she saw him, several men appeared in a room in the building to be monitored. Awashima said sharply.

"Hidaka, contact the other members."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hidaka put the scolding aside and quickly grabbed the PDA.

Awashima laughed at him.

"I count on you."

[thatabitcryptic]

Have the first chapter of the ficlet for the timestuck au :))

It’s about 1300 words

For context: Ford and Mabel have just convinced Fiddleford to help fix the time tape to get Mabel home. (This is set after fidds quit the project, Ford stumbled across Mabel on his way back from the diner- so everyone’s a bit of a mess but dad instincts kick in here yknow??)

———

Although the couch was much warmer in comparison to the frigidness of the basement, Mabel couldn’t help the cold pit that formed in her stomach. Things were starting to go in the right direction for getting back to her time but.. were they?

Ford and Mcgucket had been practically avoiding each other like the plague. Anytime either of them needed something from the other it was always Mabel who had to speak for them. Sure it made sense they were upset with each other but how could they possibly get her home if they didn’t even look at one another? Grunkle Ford refused to stop working in the basement so he could keep watch over the portal and Mcgucket’s terms of never having to enter it again.. how was she going to get them in the same room? They hated each other.

But then when she brought up the time tape why had Ford immediately jumped to needing Mcgucket’s help?? Ford was a smart guy, and not that she didn’t like the extra company but if her Grunkle had been so angry at his old friend why ask him?

And in the future when they had watched Mcgucket’s memories he didn’t sound mad at Ford, just that he had wanted to forget. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold grudges either. Well, future him at least.

The strange air between them wasn’t the only thing that was throwing her off though. The whole house was wrong. It didn’t have any semblance of a home; more of a very disorganised library.

The mystery shack had never been the tidiest place but even when she and Dipper had first arrived Grunkle Stan had the place in organised chaos. Everything had a place and each place made sense at least. Here it was sporadic with no order like Ford had stopped during the middle of something and started a new task leaving previous items cluttered amidst coffee cups and stacks of books.

It was wrong in so many ways and there were so many things she missed from home. Even the little things. The murmuring of tourists in the gift shop, the mouldy spots on the roof, the spur of a tool from wherever Soos was fixing something in the shack, the weird gross smell of Grunkle Stan, Dippers late night reading, Pacifica's sweet perfume, Waddles’ hooves clicking along the floor-

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared down at her blanket. What if she never saw them again? What if Grunkle Ford and Mcgucket were never able to get her back home? Would she have to grow up here? What if she never saw waddles again? His swishy little face, his curly tail that bounced when the toddled behind her-

And Dipper? Would the next time she saw him be when they were born?? Thirty years from now?

Mabel’s head spun; all this time travel made her nauseous. Her chest ached and her hands were hot from wringing them on the scratchy fabric. She couldn’t think straight. It was just the swirling thoughts of her fate in solitude. All she could hear was her rhythmic heartbeat pumping another reason to miss her time into the front of her mind.

Her sweater was too tight, her headband too sharp, her cheeks were itchy from the waves of drying and flowing tears-

“-lright there sweet pea?”

A soft southern drawl from her side snapped her back. Mcgucket.

She didn’t hesitate to launch herself towards the familiar tone and bury her face in his green jacket. It smelt like a strange mix of tobacco, grease and molasses but that was closer to home than the stale dusty air of her surroundings.

“Shh shh shhh shh, it’s okay sugar plum.” He ran a hand through her hair and softly untangled any knots. “Ya’ wanna tell me what’s the matter?”

Mabel’s mouth immediately burst open with bubbling incomprehensible sobs.

“I wanma go h-homemm, Dippmffft, grunkmplmh stamm,” she took a breath and looked up at him with blurred eyes, “m-my pett pig waddles and h-his face.” And then she pressed herself back into his side. Each breath she took shook her body but it was stifled by Fiddleford hugging her closer.

“Hmmmm, a pet pig huh?” He paused and tapped his fingers on her back in contemplation.

“Did future me ever tell ya’ tha’ I grew up on a hog farm?”

Mabel stopped for a moment to look up at him with a trembling lip. “N-no, I-I don’t think s-so?”

Mcgucket drew back with a faux sound of horror. “Well, I never! I can’t ‘lieve this feller’! Ya’ hav’ a pig and ‘e didn’t even offer some advice!”

Mabel smiled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

“Naw’ darlin’ here.” Fiddleford reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her.

“T-thank you.”

“It’s tha’ least I could do after withholdin’ my advice in the future, or is it before..” He chuckled and shifted to rest his chin on top of Mabel’s head. “I’ll have to remember to tell ya ‘bout it”

Mabel stiffened and wiped her eyes again but didn’t comment.

Maybe it was best not to ask her...

“Now waddles?” he hummed. “I gotta say Mabel that’s a mighty fine name for’ a pig I reckon. The little fellers do tend ta’ waddle about.”

“Y-yeah.” Her voice quivered in reply and she absentmindedly latched onto the sides of his jacket and pulled them in over herself. “He- I miss him.”

Fiddleford could feel Mabel beginning to shake again and he wracked his brain for something else to talk about. He may not have known her for very long but it was heart breaking for such a bubbly kid to be so disquieted.

“How does he fancy the banjo?”

“The banjo?” She turned and lifted her head to look up at him with big eyes and Mcgucket’s heart melted. Mabel may as well have been Stanford’s kid in his eyes, each little mannerism was instantly recognisable as one as Ford’s.

“Uh huh, piglets on the farm used’ ta’ love it! ‘Td help ‘em drift off ta’ sleep in a big stack.”

He grinned at Mabel’s gasp and the way her eyes lit up when she spun around to look at him.

“In a piggy pile?” she started to bounce with enthusiasm.

“In one ‘o the biggest piles ‘o piglets a‘round!” He poked her nose eliciting a giggle.

“Old ma- I mean Mcgucket can you pretty please teach me to play? I-I’ll uhh umm I’ll draw one of my famous catacatures for you!!”

Mabel’s energy was contagious but Fiddleford couldn’t help his knee from bouncing slightly as he sheepishly looked past her to the door.

“Oh uh not that’ I don’t want one of yer drawins’ girlie but I’m not uhh too sure that’s such a good idea, Stanford’s mighty busy at work an’...”

He looked down to see Mabel’s eyes were full of stars as she was practically buzzing with excitement that he hadn’t seen since he met her. Fidds couldn’t help but feel delight at the sight. Just like Stanford.

“Hehaha ‘lright but if we hear Ford comin’ up we ‘ave to hide my banjo ‘else I’ll never see it ‘tagain.”

“Ahh thank you thank you thank you!!” Mabel wrapped him in a tight hug and it was as though all her upset had been transferred into her keenness for a banjo lesson.

Fiddleford stood, and helped Mabel out of her cocoon of blankets before fixing his glasses.

“Ahaha okay okay hush now aha we’ve gotta’ be a bit more quiet kidlet.”

His smile faltered as he saw his hand rising to grip his hair, Mabel must have noticed too because she quickly held onto it and subtlety swung it back and forth as they went to collect the instrument.